The snow falls late this year in May.
When burdened roses break in parts
I hear the hound of sadness bark
against the courage of all men.
All left and all alone I stay
to see the sundown in all hearts.
By foggy twilight feelings dark
and never can be light again.
Through empty abscond is a way.
There hunters chase with bows and darts
to kill a mocking bird - the lark
(for sunrise never comes again).
Footprints of time, called night and day,
will lead me to the nightmares mart:
The road to lonelinesses park
where hope is lost and bare all men.