Withered roses crisp underneath my feat As I head my steps for the outside The soles of my feet meet grey concrete But I feel not the grinning cold Life stays so silent A deserted battlefield The hait is all covered in dust As the wind gently caresses and lifts it I am trying to die think I am trying to fill the void With death's every poison And death's every spite So come, oh come, oh please come then In the cold breeze levitates a gross of seeds My dry eyes move slow and scattering And meets in some distant form of slumber The landscape and it's vast void