Days didn't pass without a lots knocking on our golden door
Hours won't bow for another before we see the foot of our lamp
Minutes won't lost before we found every of our over runs cups
&second won't die before the return of our transfixed on what we burn to have

Life once leave on a mountain of flat tales
Path of dry heart
Forest of many sick medals
& Cemeteries to always lay our dead voice

And again with the wide route on father's head
You will know that our days once walk astray
But when the thorns hit the last bridge
Names meet Name

Now today heartbeat is not the beat we recite the sour anthem to again
But the beat we listen to and remember the tales of our then in abyss.