Song: Died age

The agony of this era will see in the final
How to become ash those things
We seriously played.

I wander to nowhere, somewhere at six in the morning
But what would be the region covered by the winds -
My cold region is dearer to me a hundred times
Like a hundred carats in the ice frame.
Grey sleeping unit, as a gambling court.
My slow step, there will be even quieter,
Than a homeless cat through the old yard
From darkening the nights of the nine-story.