I am tangled in a web of passion

It is always there, it has no season

I look into the blank black night

It is a cold taunting mirror reflecting fright

The fright is bound to time that will surely end

In the tearing groan of another lost friend

I don’t want to think, I don’t want to know

I want to heal the wound cut each time I let go

I turn to the ashes scattered on the ground

I bow my head and I don’t hear a sound