IRC-Galleria

Air in her hands
Her will begins to bend
Couldn't imagine
A more tragic end

Fear, penetrative like a knife
Feeding on the dying vapors of life
Her breathing is fading
I'm failing again

Morning rain
Is just the same
As my tears on her grave
True to Her Love that remains
Without a name, without a face
Like the air in the space
Pure as Her sacred embrace

Morning rain
Is just the same
As my tears on Her grave
Trying to reach underground
Will She forgive me
The next time around?