The fragrant flowers of your grave, the burning incense thus die,
Leaving my fears long alone, the inevitable calm creeping by,
Making promises yet again, pointing out my misery and why,
Sinking through the clear smoke, sitting awake thinking high,
Out of belief short of love, wide awake about to cry,
For once i did believe in love, for you promised wouldn't lie,
Now i sit under my quilt absolute in silence, the night hence whispers by,
And i am stuck again same place, as to get out i dearly try,
Deep down below my skin, the calling is to live by,
Dream again a better world, live again the same lie,
Turing times of pure liberation, twinkling nights thus deny,
Thus haunted by sure absence, holding sight of the last good bye.
