Always clouding up the sunny sky.
Lost in a vacancy like a organ-less lover,
Trying hard not to let the passion die.
But it will�the season is too long for life.
All things must die to be reborn.
Lost life shrivels up like a beaten wife,
And accept the future to be forlorn.
The clamps are tightening on the soul,
Not much is left but intolerant piety.
Lost in an ice age that likes to be called �tomb�,
Finding no logic, happiness, serenity.
Way down in the icy hollow it sits,
Waiting for birth in that brazen heat.
Losing the power to say it quits�
Waiting for the sun & Earth to meet.
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