Along the path where the stream is talking, I breathe the mist and continue walking. The wood it whispers in a language of it's own. As a sigh escaped my lips, I feel the light caress of fingertips that, Steal away the breath and leave me on my own.
Waiting by the stairs. (Waiting, I despair) Waiting, I despair. (Waiting by the stairs)
My whole life is a dark room. One, big, dark room.
Do I hear the hollow sound, Footsteps resounding on this frozen ground,
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