Standing on here waiting
Waiting for your return
The farest you had gone
Counting days and months
Years come running

Since then my hair was black
I'm now seeing it grey
It is almost dark
Dark in my chambers of life

A hole lies before me
Terrifying and annoying it is
An empty box made of wood
It lies besides


Five men of high density
Muscular and energitic
They wait for the my last breath
The mourners so loud
That the village get filled with sorrow

I can't see
I can't hear
I can't breath
I can't join the mourning session
I'm not there
I'm far by the clouds.