If the days will pass on in silence, if the leaves were to stay in midair, if I were to silence you forever,
Then nothing shall be finished, then nothing shall be done, and people will be crying from dust till dawn.
And this is not what I search for, this is not what I seek,
to only live in fear, to only be meek.
Well, how can I live like this, uselessly alive;
Well, how can I breath like this, with a mouth that isn't mine.
I really don't belong here, and you can actually tell,
by the winds that are calling me, once again...
And here I am left now, barely standing on my own,
with tattered clothes and covers, with sins that aren't my own.
And I still shake at the thought,
and I still wonder "...if..."
and I still can not be called "human"
and never again...
never again will I be afraid,
never again will I scare myself,
with useless thinking and ideals,
with useless cries, not again.
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