The Way To Suicide — Ankhagram

I stand at a cold old window. On empty streets pours a rain. The emptiness in my heart gives rise to a wild pain. But now is does not matter.

Does not matter that I hope and I want love. Does not matter that my hopes doomed on destruction.

I always look in my reflection in a mirror. It seems to me so lifeless... I on the way to suicide...

Last time I stand at a cold old window. An empty street as if my heart....

Nobody can keep me alive. Too late for excuses.