As ancient trees our bodies rest twined to each...
In dreams where the oaks can tell our stories...

You is the destiny unknown
the sky we look above...

It's raining
drops that come down like the tears on my face...

What you did provoked me this reaction
a contraction, seems inside distruction...

Not a song, not a word, not a lie,
not a phrase to make me realize...

The muse of sadness appeared to me today
she had long hair and a white non-face...