I sit here in this dark room.
While I wish I could write to you...
The look in your eye,
saying I'm lonely and I'm about to die...
And here i lay dreaming,
of your mistaken disease...
Our bed we will build,
Just fit for two...
This ride will never end..
So I start to look back when...
We're not the only one dying.
We could not love each other anymore...
We have a mystery with nothing to hide,
I have a beacon, my nocturnal guide...
In my coffin
I have my rose...
At eighteen years of age
Contemplating the possibilities...
You quietly say good night,
as i fear the soft click...
At eighteen years of age
Contemplating the possibilities...
We awake to the warm embrace of daylight,
Slumbering in depths of the cold dark night...