Sweet petals follow my thirst, come die in the path I'm taking, to bloom the colors of May and to burn in crimson and gold.
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.