Seated in a bottom
your anger salutes to my solitude
but not a thing has really changed

Wasted moments cry aloud
but no one hears
the voicless shouts

And while ringing
the last rings of a call
to despaired and misplaced
on the floors of the ball
i salute to you only

Lady in pink shroud
who whistles a mourn
to a one left behind
all alone

I am the devil
and i am the cure
for your longing
escaping outside the obscure

For nothing is more true
than the lies you whispered by the sunrise
the lies that took away the colour
from the face of the moon

And at the end
you`re just a widdow
to the greatest of fools
who behave as beholding
although solely forgotten
teenaged in pink dreams
became wrapped up in blackness
and gloom.