As the candle of my life burns out,
As every sign of my existence fades away,
and into this sombre grave,
I lay buried in a forest of gloom,
mournful cries of a dying soul,
never to be heard again,
and silence creeps into my crypt of turmoil,
my wandering soul now rests in calmness,
yet this is not ecstasy.
As every sign of my existence fades away,
and into this sombre grave,
I lay buried in a forest of gloom,
mournful cries of a dying soul,
never to be heard again,
and silence creeps into my crypt of turmoil,
my wandering soul now rests in calmness,
yet this is not ecstasy.
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