In a silent street
At a sun-bathed eerie afternoon.
A pen was capped;
A note was written;
Sealed at a table of wild, white roses.
A chair was pulled,
A rope was tied,
And beside the house an oak tree was waiting.
The leaves rustled,
The branches swayed;
The wind whispered a silent goodbye.
Then there’s a loop,
A tightening loop,
Sucking the breath of finality.
Now pours the rain,
To wash away the sin,
The only shelter of souls lost in desperation