The black rain is falling,
Destroying all in its path...
My final fall
It was so many years ago...
She calmly approached him,
while he was carving a wooden bird...
Here upon this shelf I sit
I've journeyed to a thousand places...
In the shade of your heart
memories kick away doubts...
Sadness it may bring.
in your heart when you hear...
Hide yourself where ever you please
Underground or under seas...
Autumn, nineteen forty-three,
my eyes have seen death...
The identity of expression
is the prowess of artistic creation...
Pitter patters of little feet
no longer run beneath...
Cool winds caress my skin;
And, the smell of grass and water spins...
She' s quiet and she keeps to herself
She must not care about anyone else...