---

In my silent meditations,

the past comes clear as day.

I regret what I couldn't keep.

I disappear in gray mist.

And my mind, unused to grasp the present,

yearns for a place hidden in time.

This heart is calm as sleeping lakes

when it lurks in long reveries.

The music vibrates deep within,

remorse awakens and sings in sorrow.

A ghostly presence looks through the window.

The pictures burn and leave a scar.

There is no cure for this disease,

a part of hell which God can't heal.

But my spirit rots faster than flesh,

between heaven and earth.

The trees outside no longer live,

no trace left of their voices.

Damned to wander alone,

all I have is the company of myself.

There is no cure for this disease,

a part of hell which God can't heal.

But my spirit rots faster than flesh,

between heaven and earth.

The exit lies

between heaven and earth.

Suspended in time,

my spirit rots.