It was a cold, dark and difficult Wednesday
night;
I was walking through a lonely street beneath
the moonlight:
I can't stop thinking of her for a thousand times,
When I'm about to feel that her love is just a lie.

The tears were falling when we broke up only
yesterday,
Yet I still went to her house to tell the last
goodbye.
And I can't believe that our love has its end,
We loosened the tie and we just turned up on
pretending.

After a few minutes...

As I was standing one step apart from her door,
I found something yet I didn't mind it at all;
Still I walked forward and once opened her
house,
And there I saw something that really brought
me down.

I found her lying in front of me on her own
blood;
With a knife on her hand and a letter of her
love.
It was a sorrowful moment I could never ever
forget to see,
When that letter was telling that she killed
herself because of me.