Red roses unfurled bright fires by the footsteps of the dead, embers bleed in candlelight orange as it fades into the night.
Bereaving of the death of love, embraced by the cold winters of the absence, to beg and to have failed.
If by chance a heart gives, a living soul be saved again.
Drown me at nighttime, for I am yearning to have your face be seen before I let myself die.
Its judgement weighs my soul, counts my value in pure gold.
His soul depart his heart to rest with the stars at night.
Forget the path that leads to my grave and the stars in the void of my darkness.