Mist Loosens Its Grip Upon The Crimson Coloured Rooftops, The Forests Set Ablaze At The Arrival Of The Scarlet Raven, With Morning Braking Through The Walls Of Darkness, No Sun Is There To Warm My Sorrow-beaten Heart. Your Eyes Assume The Colour Of The Falling Leaves, Your Hair The Warmth Which Drives The Desert Wind, Inviting As A Shelter For The Soul, Replenishing My Sorrow-rotten Heart. As Fragrant Candles Light The Midnight Sun, The Skin I Had So Faithfully Caressed Begins To Fade Away And Lose Its Shine Within The Safety Of The Tender Arms Of Autumn. As Autumn Embraces My Sorrow, There Is No One To Wake My Cold And Lifeless Heart...
