Flowers wilting, slow decay,
Death slumber, fade away.
Upon nocturnal twisted time,
Marches hence the devils pride.
Amongst the stench and vibrant fire,
Dwells love of hatred in a falling mire,
A shadow of its former self,
A planet locked without help
The earth divine, her right to be.
A universe of universes who were all born free.
In this realm we all exist.
Waiting, waiting for a kiss.
From the lips of sirens, in the sea,
And the pretty women , whom to be.
I\'ll ask to taste her perfect lips,
As my eyes on her beauty sips.