How will I tell you
that the flower that was this love has withered,
that the bird of dreams that we had flew away,
that the stimulating wine of desire has run out?
How will I tell you,
that my eyes are now tired of crying,
that my arms are now asleep of waiting,
crucified in the agony of your goodbye,
your maybe, your perhaps?
How will I tell you,
that there's no wood on the tree of faith,
that I tired out the memories shroud,
that I already laid down on the tomb of the past?
How will I tell you,that I lost the love I had?
How will I tell you,that I don'w wanna know you anymore?