Looking at the past, I am just a shadow
Stars were not born to me
An endless book I am turning
In which sentences were left in half
Broken half-lines are running
Sheets soaked in tears

I said prayers in vain
And laid sometimes half dead
If I put my bleeding wounds to sleep
I could die again and again
The night was waiting for me, the sleepless
But I rose in the morning in red

Words hurt, minutes hurt
Scars hurt when I look back
And see how much eternal denial is worth
There is no resurrection without Good Friday