Wermode, great star
Who fell down from heaven
You empoisoned the fountains of life
Bitter tears have darkened their brightness
Still I bathe my lips with its vine

Transience is
the nature of existence
Slow decay in ravages of time
Cherished years, the ones we´d been given
Grains of sand, washed away by the tide

Lost myself
in days long-forgotten
Wistfulness…takes hold of my mind
Bitter tears have darkened their brightness
Still I bathe my lips with its vine