The morning's rays I block with curtains,
I drink wine, not water from a fountain,
I never seem to have dreams of my death,
Its like I'll always catch my breath.

In an old lane, I bury precious grains,
More precious than Egypt's golden sands
Deterrent  eyes don't strike my emotions
I lost my mum most dearest to me,

If I'm alive and breathing,
how it's so my soul is dying,
I've lost almost everything
and feel I'm now a demon.
Ask yourself, how you can tell,
are my eyes not filled with hell?