Falling..
Dying...
Darkness and snow covered my path
Unbearable cold winds are facing me...

My only one desired thought is death,
That unique salvation.. Sorrows from
The past, they all come in a dark-shaped
Specter, he is stabbing me with his scythe..

Drowning in this cold suffering of mine..
I can see the sky turn to grey, beneath
A wave of hate inside my now rotting body,
My sight is dim and pale. Shadows...

Rotting, here, alone, in deep agony, slowly
Fading away.. Still shrouded in decadence...
Dying..
Gone...