Let yourself burn, let yourself be
Eaten away by the darkness you once preyed on,
Till all that's left is a puddle of wax (tears) on the plate (bed).

It's better to give out rather than to give in,
To cry and rage and scream and after that to lie exhausted.

Bloom like the rose after, coat in red and thorns sharper,
Unrelenting but its beauty brings comfort to eyes of lovers,
Rush not the pain of burning and blooming. Feel.
Not because you're weak but because you are stronger after.

Withered flowers reminds us that
Withering is fine.
Waters --in any shape they are--
Will bring the colors of us again.

Tell me that I’ll pull through,
Or I’m a little bit feel down.
For you it’s just a trifle,
And for me it’ll give a strength crown.

I'll know there's someone believes in me
I'll just hear, that he's somewhere.
Even it’s not true, doesn’t matter.
Tell lies! I really don’t care!

Tell me that I’ll overcome,
That my spirit is really strong.
But don’t pry into my soul.
It’s sealed up with black wax for long.

It shouldn’t be touched soever,
It’s only the time for its rest.
Tell me that I’ll pull through.
Tell me something! I want to be confessed!