Ankhagram The Way To Suicide
I stand at a cold old window.
On empty streets pours a rain.
The emptiness in my heart gives rise to a wild pain.
But now is does not matter.
Does not matter that I hope and I want love.
Does not matter that my hopes doomed on destruction.
I always look in my reflection in a mirror.
It seems to me so lifeless...
I on the way to suicide...
Last time I stand at a cold old window. An empty street
as if my heart....
Nobody can keep me alive.
Too late for excuses.
