| Darkest Thought |
|---|
| Darkness grows on my soul, hit by light, |
| Weaving my shadow with fear. |
| Then, in ebony, my life veils, dried by shameful days. |
| Fragile scars, my words are empty. |
| From a dying dream will come the dark swain, |
| And my bones, between dust and laments, |
| will stay my lonesome answer. |
