Like spring tears on the ground
the rain's soft and tender sound
among the kingdom of stones
will watch the dreams of the lost ones
An epitaph carved on marble,
upon a grave grey and humble
will say for all eternity
"my dreams became my destiny"
The man is dead, of that I'm sure!
but nothing's wrong, he hasn't gone
if he had lived to forge a dream
then he's not dead, his just asleep
His heart still beats a hundred feets
he choose in life to live, be free
that's why he scaped the deathly kiss;
his spirit's abroad the sky like mist
No black veil is possible to fall
upon the ones that dreams had follow
-even if your eyes get soaked in sorrow-
this souls will have no funerals


