The dim grey dawn resets the counter of days. Weak pale gleam highlights the ruins that used to be our homes. The cold gust carries a piece of newspaper That lied about our future pushing us to the abyss.
Dry black flakes of ashes covers skeletons Without faces throwing out the bitter of lost hope. We believed in holiness of our sins When we hammered last nail in the coffin of our world.
No one will regret the time of light-heartedness, The possibility of seeing the next day, Because there is no one alive In the new world that we’ve lost.