Low

Pure as snow.
that can not live in this world.

Silence is everywhere, even when the world speaks.
I'm not here. *I'm not here*
Flowers burn.

Slowly alone, your way to the "happy" light.
Flowers burn, while the snow melts.

Fragments of a broken mirror
reflect the mess you are
Trim low red.

Pure as snow
that can not live in this world
because we are all alone.
Bleed in low red.

The road that stops on a bridge suspended in the air.
so you can be free: getting lost. *alone*

We all live in lies.
*We all live in cries*
We burn the flowers that we plant.
We freeze the snow.
Idea of ​​the world different from reality,
because we all expect happiness,
but we burns it.
In a slow fire and red.
In a low red.

Life is real as long as you think it is.
I'm not here. *I'm not here*
it is as if I did not exist, it is as if there were nothing.
because the silence is everywhere, even when the world speaks.

The search for perfection in something broken, which continues to slump.
*if you want to be free you have to get lost in a low red.*