That blow the wind of winter ... everything around has lost its breath , even the little bird has stopped singing . Everything is dying again , but not by my hand , just in my hands , trembling hands in your coldness , again and again . The leaving eyes of my soul will never see the cold blue sky again , nevermore , for ever . The snow covered in dust in my growing sorrow , where the fallen soldiers has no name , looks like an old piece of dirty lace , disgusting with all its crapy decadent past ... now enter the wind , and the forgotten wolves are crying ...
Posted on: Mon, 30 Sep 2013 21:30:13 +0000
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