It's the season the trees die
The birds don't sing nomore
The rivers never come back
Nature dies out

Focus tomorrow's horizon
Sorrow means no future
Cover my face
With my guilty hands

This tragic figure
destinied to hurt never heal
What end can save me
What good gives me an end

It's the season the trees die
The birds don't sing no more
The rivers never come back
Nature dies out

First passion
Now is lost
A dramatic dead story
I killed all I have

My sadness is
Translated into madness
I spell meaningless words
A poem for sorrow and death

Nothing is innocent
Nothing is fair
I keep wondering
How did I end up like this

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