My soul is lost with all my warmth,
My empty life is rot.
The winds feel so cold,
And dry cold burns a lot.

I try to reach.
My hands feel short.
The dream of my soul, is in my front!
The front is lost, within the dream,
My legs are finding front.

My screams, turn to dirt, as I feel this haunting grim.
Life is long, with gray so old,
And hope is just a film.

When I hear songs, they sound like cries,  I can't cry the pain.
The thorns seal my mouth.
The thorns of pain.
The thorns of blame.
And I can't ask for rain.

Death seems soaked, a distant force, can't take me with all the pain.
I am here, like a desert frost,
Who lost his only rain.

The gloom so stark.
The gloom so long.
The gloom of all the wrong.
It feels so sharp.
It's like cold burns.
It's a road of wound so long.

My legs please work,
My legs go on,
I already lost my breath!
Don't let me die,
Don't let me try,
Even if I cry my death!