• Last days approaching
    The feeling creeping behind his shoulders
    Pale like a ghost, must he remember the past
    Something nostalgic, he didn't want to remember
    He didn't want, foul demons
    Witnessing before death's door
    Weeping something about his wounds
    That may no one kiss them, no former ghost from nightmares past
    He raised his hands towards foul shadows growing in front
    Clenching the teeth and wetting a face salty
    The wrinkles cringed many times over, following dead whispers
    Must I die... disabled and so cold...
    Where are you... forsaking me without visits...
    I was there... at your bed... I was always there...
    Would you kill me twice... this now and that past....
    Where are you... don't ignore me... please grant me...