Grief breathes tears,
breathes hope, breathes anger.
Grief plunges the dreams
into the waves of foaming flood.
Monument...
Grief makes us fall,
even when we are standing firm.
Grief makes us tired,
of the path we take.
Grief colors it Sky,
takes away the colors,
paralyzes the heart in the body,
endures as it withers.
For the last time the breath stretches
at the feet of culture
to join in together,
the monument breaks into major key.
Everything was in my hands,
it will be said in history.
I let every will end,
in order to travel to the firmament.
Every muscle around the bone
has broken with this world.
All particles stand still,
because that A play wants to be a picture.
Deepness sets itself in the painting
as I float from the canvas,
I become a star that has become light and weave myself into the firmament.
The world ends here.
The monument breaks.
It ends thanks to you,
If in doubt, by me.
The world ends tonight.
The monument for llt.
In shining splendor
the world petrifies.