---

In the sand that runs slow through my hands

thy amber tears fall deep,

like the rain that washes away

the ashes of thy death.

Nevermore thou riseth from the ashes

for thy will has withered o' away.

And the taste from the waters of Lethe

doth not fade thy haunting memories.

Rain rinse away the pain,

of the dreams you have slain.

And the bitter truth remains,

(that) there's no truth at all herein.

And in this final sin

it end ere it doth begin

and somewhere deep within

grows cancer called chagrin.

A Phoenix' agony,

is not for all to see.

Its buried within thee,

and thine death deep in me.