Let the evening comes... you're not afraid of death.
You're afraid of being dead.
of being rotten
deep down
under the dark ground
of your beauty
being munched
by the decayed worms
Afraid
of being left
and forgotten
You're not afraid of death.
You are just afraid
of how the angel will grab your soul.
Will it softly?
Like a mother hugging her baby?
Or will it fast and hard?
Like a hand tear a silk?
Or will it slowly and hard?
like when a hand gripping a feather
ripping it, then throw it to nowhere
You're not afraid of death
You're just afraid
to where will you go after
the death... coming and
grabbing your soul.
You could run over the world
but the evening will always come to you
like a mother
singing lullaby
humming
"It's time to wake up, Dear..." =)
You're afraid of being dead.
of being rotten
deep down
under the dark ground
of your beauty
being munched
by the decayed worms
Afraid
of being left
and forgotten
You're not afraid of death.
You are just afraid
of how the angel will grab your soul.
Will it softly?
Like a mother hugging her baby?
Or will it fast and hard?
Like a hand tear a silk?
Or will it slowly and hard?
like when a hand gripping a feather
ripping it, then throw it to nowhere
You're not afraid of death
You're just afraid
to where will you go after
the death... coming and
grabbing your soul.
You could run over the world
but the evening will always come to you
like a mother
singing lullaby
humming
"It's time to wake up, Dear..." =)
