Explain me why all is always finished by cry And empty souls don't fly All truth is like whispers of staining hearts in the misty sky So I get used to kiss goodbye.
Just one more breath, and I'm depressed I suffocate in my melancholy The grace of death let me digress Then I regain my melancholy.
Biblical grace lets our souls fly away When fatal bursts embrace Tangled lace, rain washes of shame from my face And shelters me in a lonely grave.