Resuscitate and breathe me back to life,
this dying light dim in the burning day;
them lips must say to find me afterlife,
in world where gold and love and dusts don't weigh.

Come back, as I bide for to rid old scars,
for gone are the leaves in a blighted wood.
Though failed, for oft, a pedestal is carved,
by who understands, when not understood;

and calls me only by my other name,
and knows a heart has gotten cold and dull.
Yet then holds he the ray of potent flame,
to gently thaw with words and melt the wall.

Resuscitate once more let this transcend,
until the end of times or to no end.