As the bliss of midnight approaches them
The clouds shed the light of a cold moon

Leading their lives together, the end is gone
And the illusion they feel,
Cannot be repeated

Drying is the fluid of love,
Solidifying and holding them still in time,
Longing for the night to persist.

They know the morning approaches,
The expectation of the sunrise means an end.
The end of night is the end of all time,
And as unfathomable as eternal endings are, it still ensues

Moon setting,
Sun rising,
The contradicting feelings swim,
Uncertain of the future their love has ended.

The bliss of her death, as the blood runs down his fingers, consumes him, and the sharp pain absorbs him.

Until the night and cold moon flash again
The two will lay with security as true as the sky is broad.