Falling Away: the Cold Grave
Wind howls, rushing through the forest and then the graveyard.
In time eroding the letters, and numbers and names from the headstones,
As forgotten as the bones and corpses they were written for.
If you walk by, you can hear the desperate whispers of those who didn't
The ground hallowed and hollow,
They are alone,
As are we...
Yet, they are not blind to it,
They don't lie to themselves.
We are all cold, frozen, in spirit,
Alone until we die,
And sometimes even then, we stay here,
Trapped by memories, unfinished business... our souls...
When we die we do not always find peace.
Sins eat us faster...
The wind rushes through the trees, through your window.
The candle blows out.
.... Can you hear their whispers? ....