Step by step,
by the misty dawn,
entering the grave-yard.
Rust is all around,
the silence of death,
is awaiting for its moment.

Sudden whispers,
those same old voices:
"Pick up the spade,
don't be afraid,
be calm.

No one hates you when you're numb
No more neglection when you're pale
No more raping when you lie still
when you're DEAD!

Taste the cold-wet dust,
soon you both,
become one,
purified by the nature."

Don't touch the spikes, Janey.
Please, don't!
I don't won't to put this beautifull rose,
on your self-made grave.
I know what you've been through,
I've been lost in misery,
raped by endless lies,
shut by my own self-pity,
craved for sweet-true love,
and got nothing by nothing,
nothing but nothing!

Is it too late?!

Spring,
won't you bloom for us?
HEY !
God,
where are you now?

Janey,
don't close your eyes,
no...