While every single human rests,
and the nightly creatures claim their place,
the sweet sound of silence,
combines with the profound darkness of the night.
The chilling breeze is unnoticed,
The howling of the dogs, ignored,
Who's paying attention anyway?
Their dreams are trapping their souls.
In this mistic, magic moment,
everything's forgotten,
Unconsciousness is everyone's sovereign.
And as stars get brighter,
in the dark blue sky,
And as the owls chant,
their ancient song,
He defies the nightly reign,
by staying awake.
He doesn't belong to the world,
He's an outcast from our own race,
Nature rejects him,
Darkness loves him,
People forget him.
In the middle of his beloved night,
between menacing shadows,
and flickering lights,
He lays down on the cold stone,
embraced by silence,
heated by loneliness,
desiring nothing,
expecting no-one.
Immersed in his thoughts,
he suddenly realizes the awful truth,
'This, is death, lonely, mistic, personal'
'This, is death, absolute solitude'
'This, is death, meaningless, obligatory'
'This, is death, though I'm still alive'
'This, is death, for my soul has already died'