The mock of my own life devastates my mind
I become a slave , a grave life
Cold stones strangle my hope
The crumb of my own life
It becomes the monuments of us
The monuments of the vain cry
The air for the nature
Water for the well , soul for the body and…
Stones for the man who wanted
Stones for the man who didn’t want
Stones for the man, who want
And for the grave digger, He’ll bury your soul
On the bottom of conscience
I compose the parting song
To look of the eternal cross strangled by candle smoke
It gives me hope. It gives a survival
The air for the nature …

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