Orijinal sözler
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Goddess of weather
Spins her wool in my ear
Gossip and woes of angels
I do hear
Unknown vile I keep inside
Dwindles and disappears
When she is by my side
She sings her song
Her praise of life
That I know not of
My journal lay unopened in my lap
It has not opened since the day I began to rot
Cannot someone smell my rot in the air?
Cannot someone smell my decomposition?
Cannot someone free me?
Free me as I live
As I live but I am dead
I am dead
I am dead
I am dead
