When out of the earth, to that of oblivion
When my wealth are left behind,
And my work and deeds unfinished.
Even all strives lay in vain.
When I'm gone and my fames all dies.
And not my name in the house of tomorrow,
When I'm gone and my mouth are mute and my ears deaf,
When I'm gone and never to come back.
When I'm gone to the place of truth,
And all coverups lay opened.
When I'm gone and my eyes shut, hands tied.
When on the cold floor I lay, what worth is the nourished skin i paid.
When I'm gone and alone in an helpless corridor,
Face palming and biting my fingers, reminiscing my bads and looking to the place of perdition.
Got alot of fears to say when I'm gone.
When I'm gone, who shall mourn me,
Who shall call for me even when my ears are numb.
Who shall try to find nd forgive my mistakes, even if none can see my wandering spooke.
WHEN I'M GONE.
When I'm gone and the rooster on the stile crows behind me,
And life despair when the only visitation remains in every dreams.
When I'm gone and ne'er to wake from my slumber,
And my only memory and what i deserve is a flower in the necropolis.
WHEN I'M GONE
Dec 9, 2020
Dec 9, 2020 at 2:17 AM UTC
When out of the earth, to that of oblivion
When my wealth are left behind,
And my work and deeds unfinished.
Even all strives lay in vain.
When I'm gone and my fames all dies.
And not my name in the house of tomorrow,
When I'm gone and my mouth are mute and my ears deaf,
When I'm gone and never to come back.
When I'm gone to the place of truth,
And all coverups lay opened.
When I'm gone and my eyes shut, hands tied.
When on the cold floor I lay, what worth is the nourished skin i paid.
When I'm gone and alone in an helpless corridor,
Face palming and biting my fingers, reminiscing my bads and looking to the place of perdition.
Got alot of fears to say when I'm gone.
When I'm gone, who shall mourn me,
Who shall call for me even when my ears are numb.
Who shall try to find nd forgive my mistakes, even if none can see my wandering spooke.
WHEN I'M GONE.
When I'm gone and the rooster on the stile crows behind me,
And life despair when the only visitation remains in every dreams.
When I'm gone and ne'er to wake from my slumber,
And my only memory and what i deserve is a flower in the necropolis.
WHEN I'M GONE
Inevitable death
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