Death, the irony of life,
Why can’t it leave without a trace?
Shattered moments to the living day of my last breath,
Change my soul as it shall seek its unforeseen happiness.
Grey as the time the sun fades its colours away,
The loving memory once lived but now left just in my train of thoughts.
Wishing well, oh, now tell me that no colour existed…
A tree stood still in the woods with lies from a confessor,
Beneath that branch was a history now lost amongst the real world,
Oh tell me now, sweet angel, who shall be next?
Call upon the gods of the heavens, have mercy on a peaceful soul,
Before it fades without recognition among the people it knows,
For once, listen to its words whole,
Judge fairly before deciding where its soul will go,
The existence phase after life where it couldn’t be told…