Lifting your youth and yowl,
whilst the gale sings its prowl,
all heaven unto hell,
the rain into thy heart befell.

Far, the longest way
from these insipid hearts
may you find thee,
raising his hands one last time.

No soul loved thee.
No hands held thee.
No lips caressed thee.
In you I find me.

This night becomes the last,
unceasing wind and storm and gasp,
I leave the pane open tonight,
To free the world my breath tonight.