Counting the sounds of footsteps outside the wounding cloister
Hoping only to be released while the gentle lie is repeated
Please Sir can't you see it?
I, bound to these chains, withered
Tainted, impurified, sinning
A distorted scream should reach you softly
When the shame and the loneliness endure
I will rise to the crimson sky bearing your name
Unable to spread my wings in the wounding cloister
My tattered feathers lay ruined before my feet
Remnants of lascivious dignity are dissolving, but the chains won't even disappear
My prayers left unanswered, a stigmatic body carrying the fallen grace painfully moves
Though the glimmering silver beam reach my eyes it cannot rouse me from this sleep
My limbs have long being petrified with the continuous gentle lies
And the shame to be endured is just...
I want be free
Please Sir can't you grant it
My last wish is said with the last of my breaths
It should have reached you pleasently
In the wounding cloister my love's pair of wings lay still
When this heart ceases its beating
I want to carry the scent of life towards you
Just the two of us, dearest dead wings
We will exchange our vows in the next carnation
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