Oblivion owned to live

he had never seen his coffin

and what was made from there

he had never tasted his tears



Can we trespass now



Never dream again

cause this world became the dreams

surely he would wonder about his steps

would always remember the past



What past? Times...



(He would strive on and on

collecting his peace entangled

in crayons the most valuable of all)



Out of the dismal mist

covering the crown

he stands like a sculpture

in a flowered garden

black and enameled roses



Can this forsakened deem

lay its hand on the final grasp