The Crow.

No one can hear my screams,
hide in my dreams they are,
as the crow in the mountain fall
to the valley to eat my skin.

No one can rest in here,
when the pieces of the night crush
and the storm begins to bleed.

I could not see your fear,
when the light crumbled
in the dungeons of our souls,
till the lurking death shouted that was enough.

Sigue siendo invierno.

Se escapan por la ventana mis ojos, caminando hacia las nubes, reflejándose en las pupilas la vida que has dejado entre tinieblas.