Above the clouds, about at the 61st, there's a forest of gray.
I'm walking there among shades and I have to stay.
Since I've bathed in the lake of hate
I don't know the way, I cannot find my gates.
Disconsolate…
Under the ground at the depths of Hell
There's the end of the day.
I try to speak but I couldn't find the words to say.
I'd go up to sky, here I couldn't be,
I got to know, that the depths of Hell is me.
Oh, it's me…
Disconsolate…