Hope/Renaissance - Decembre Noir

An uncomfortable melody

Whistled on a blade of grass

By the winds powerless gasp

This melody shall be the last

See how the trees wither

While they’re longing for a last tear from a river

The last straw for the renaissance of hope

No bud in bloom will ever be seen again

This melody shall be the last

A portrait black in black

Lies idle on its deathbed

The ravages of time run dry

As part of its last pulsation

The ravages of time run dry, a portrait

As part of its pulsation, black in black

Decades of passive euthanasia

Created a cremated world

Die and let die, vanished and be forgotten

How peaceful will this future be?

See how the trees wither

The only constant noise

In the serene air