My hope has quietly died, oh, God,
It hasnt breathed a sound, a word,
And when it was with me, I lied,
Without the hope my spirits ceased.
The soul, the flesh are empty, black,
I am afraid of future ways,
They end, you arent allowed to back,
Behind eternity must lay.
How can I raise the light of hope,
Just slightly pale, obscure, shy?
The soul is trying hard to cope
With me, and (maybe) with the sky.