There is something exquisite in the tears
Something from the beautiful melancholy
Sorrow falls in petals softly in the quietly depths
Unfathomable bottom where no soul has set foot in
Ineffable sighs heap on top of each other
And the weight is gentle no more
As more wet feathers drop in the pile
Until we found ourselves rowing in an endless sea
No shore on sight from days lost in tides of dead leaves
On night ravaging the feeble wooden boat
Throwing out the frail of us to layers of forsaken voices
Forlorn gods in our thick nightmares
As the pressure rises crystals forge from fires of rage
Erupting from the deepest abyss to the highest heavens
To flood over mournful eyes and fragile skin
Those waters so limpid and lucid
Emanate the most intimate of livid pains and illusive desires
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