The tidal wave, that rides your name
The empty grave, that lit the flame
With righteous tears, to heavens bounds
Or descending stairs, towards ashen grounds
A grieving bouquet, on bloodstained sands
To prepare the way, for palming hands
A trail has been carved, through death and despair
Another laid starved, from every comforts stare
The tidal wave, that rides your name
The empty grave, that lit the flame
With righteous tears, to heavens bounds
Or descending stairs, towards ashen grounds