I grab the pen, but the ink is dry as my words.

I write through as I get my fingers with a ton of paper cuts.

The sun is hiding, the sky is dusking, as dark as my heart.

And my tears fall from my eyes, I can't win this war.

My poem full of misery, I won't let it go.

I won't let it reach another fellow.

So what's coming from the inside?

A sorrow from the darkside?

Or a shout for help,

a calling from those who decay on by themselves?

And what's leaving to the outside?

Our prayings for one more light and one more fight.

Just don't let me leave the line.

I've acquired the abilities,

To escape the rear and to lead.

I'll lead your feelings towards the hills,

But promise me you won't leave.

'Cause when you saw me lay on the ground,

As I reach the skies and wandering around,

Through my mind, You told me “I'll listen to your regrets” and afterward the things we're laughing about.

Take them out,

All your mourns,

I'll carry them,

when I bury my own

So what's coming from the inside?

A sorrow from the darkside?

Or a shout for help,

a calling from those who decay on by themselves?

And what's leaving to the outside?

Our prayings for one more light and one more fight.

Just don't let me leave the line.