Poets are dead! In the stygian yard of forgetfulness Poems are buried in deserted pages Under hanging shadows of emptiness Days were decayed with silence of ruins With lost civilizations of hollow ambitions Words wander along the pathless despairs As they are wandering Woes are growing With claws of nothingness Getting the sky down upon lake of grayness Drowned it to bed of nightmares All is over my sense is ended My eternity was murdered By my own hands I am still standing In refection of lake upon a dying night see last moments of light in my tears The light is getting dark Soon deserted the world in lack of being In the lack of being seen I want to sleep by my open eyes Don’t wake me up again There is no sky All things are dead now