Along the path where the stream is talking,
I breathe the mist and continue walking.
The wood it whispers in a language of it’s own.
As a sigh escaped my lips,
I feel the light caress of fingertips that,
Steal away the breath and leave me on my own.
Waiting by the stairs. (Waiting, I despair)
Waiting, I despair. (Waiting by the stairs)
My whole life is a dark room.
One, big, dark room.
Do I hear the hollow sound,
Footsteps resounding on this frozen ground,