On top of the world I sat that day
The wind whispered into my ears.
A story, an affair, a love, a passion
One that tore, destroyed, set on fire.

I heard, of times of unbridled hope
Of nights spent in tears' arms, of despair.
Of love that wasn't meant to be fulfilled
Of a life that was never meant to be lived.

I heard of sacrifices unheard to this day
Of sights that mankind wasn't meant to see.
Of words of blood, hell, fire and brimstone,
Of a catharsis that shall never repeat.

And then the wind, it suddenly died.
I got up, picked my clothes and came back.
I went there trying to save the world,
Am glad to have simply returned with dignity.

A thread, the thread of life so fine
Snapped in a moment, oh so fast.
It had just been born, this moment
And now lies scattered, scattered.

In this house of broken glasses,
At this time of raging emotions.
Of hope, of despair - of love,
Of a friendship not meant to be.

A heart sank that day, into the sea
Came to save it not one, not one.
From their palaces of worldly peace,
They watched the drama unfold.

Let it be, just let the heart sink
Into an ocean of despair, of hope.
Let self-pity not overpower
Let this house of wax not burn.

This broken mirror, red with rage
The man in it, a stalwart I once knew.
His decaying face betrays the rust
His haughty eyes, the pride bygone.

The swagger of the past now undone,
The wealth of esteem lost in due time.
Remains, in its place, a hollow shell
But the haughty eyes burn so bright!

This pain, like a dose of anesthetic
Rushes through my body, my soul.
It purges me of the sins bygone,
It gives me strength for future battles.

It is, at once, an unmatched uniter
And the greatest divisive agent.
It is, at once, the beacon of love
And the war cry of blind hatred.

This pain, the story of my life.
This pain, the sorrow of my days.
This pain, the succor of my nights.
To this pain, I surrender, surrender.

In wait of the eternal union with you,
I wander these ephemeral shiny streets.
Your one word, a hundred roses bloom.
Your one sight, lifts this heavy gloom.

You are mine, and yet not part of me.
This world's traveller, our paths differ.
When will you leave this material world
When will my wait for union end?

Till then, these streets I shall roam.
Like a dark, brooding specter I walk.
Till the five rivers of love, they converge
I shall be dead, I shall be dead.