Like the sword when sings,
I cry inside me
exhausted by lonesome deaths.
I dream of royal slumbers,
roses, thorns tearing me out.
I see the sky crumble
rain heavy thunders from the clouds.
My heart wants to melt,
but my eyes, they're too cold.
My body wants to live,
but my soul, its not too old.

And the paper wants to turn,
dances, wants to escape.
The music demands me
And the sound between silences
they tear me into pieces.
Bring me some beauty.
I want to feel beautiful again,
like the wolf in the moon
singing its last call.