After the Last LastCall
everything should undoubtedly END.
Put plans aside, take a stroll:
nothing completely drives round the bend.
After the last sigh of Hope
words will dry out on the dead lips.
Nothing on Earth then could cut the rope
tying life-laces by your fingertips.
Beyond the last deadlock or line
something forbidden is hidden like wraith.
Your path is surely about to decline
if you could blame it all on the Faith.
Afore the last fate-forming pace
somewhere is waiting the treasure of Grief.
So don't expect all struggles you'll face
to form your clinical record in brief.
I'm scared of wounds, but tell me it all:
Will there be something reminding of me?
Something unnecessary, tiny, small?
Will I be ready to fully agree
to never rise as high as you're tall?
Is there a True Love and why should it be?
I'll send you my secret with the white owl.
'cause of it even The Berlin Wall
Some time will crack, shudder and fall.
"Confessing!" states the ancient scroll.
But, I'm afraid, even then I will crawl
towards the face which is hard to recall
after the last LastCall