• My drying tears
    Your haunting silence
    The aching loss.
    Bound by desire
    Yet...
    The dark shackles thrust about the hands,
    fluttering as if the hope was still there

    My anger
    Your impatience
    That white prison.
    Consumed by capitalism,
    Yet...
    The dark shackles thrust about the hands,
    fluttering as if the hope was still there

    My reluctant Kiss,
    Your lethal grasp.
    That thing called love
    Lost in your ring
    Yet...
    The dark shackles thrust about the hands,
    fluttering as if the hope was still there

    My unending silence
    Your Painful tears
    It is over

    No more will the dark shackles thrust about the hands,
    fluttering as if the hope was still there