Dark Reality. Blossom Of Mourning. Ashen. Zeneszám

A paveway of graveyards, wetted by tears
reflecting the clouds that huddle together
the sky to protect from seeing the pain
Unbearable, my soul uproars, the sobs of thousands grind all thoughts
Clouds of cremated hopes swaying like butterflies but dead, grey and dead
ashes fly snowlike, so soft and so warm and cover the names with a blanket
oh, fragnant, with guilt and despair oh, butterfly, yoru wings are cold
and tears...