My soul weeps the tears of loneliness,
With a feeling of a declining corpse to be,
I am losing all power and control,
Losing all wishes and hope.

For you are not in my presence,
You who are to me, yet unseen,
How much more will you torment,
Do you deem me not ready?

Doubtful words out of hearts longing,
I am ready to sell my body and soul,
Words that have been washed out,
a blurry grey-matter called existence.

Tear out of me this sensation,
Rip violently out of me this reality,
Or at least, help me paint over it,
as I’ve always done in my loneliness.

But nothings happens, nothing sounds,
You remain the phantom that haunts upon my world,
I remain the lonely fool I am,
Too afraid to grasp any kind of fate.

I pick up my brush as I always do,
With the thickest of lead-paint, I coat it all white,
Until it dries and crumbles to rust,
Until my illusions have had their way.