One, two, three, four
Pitter patter, drip drop
As the sheep tread lightly
I am gone

In out, out in
The rhythm is placid
All is quiet, all is still
I am gone

Everything is frozen
Even when I opened my eyes
I will not see the same reality
I am gone

Over my head grows a single rose
Nightingale; an alluring voice arises
Forgetting all my tears unshed
I am gone

Again, it is silent for the tireless traveler
Each time existence is illusory
And as myth turns to fact
The last flames will wave to me
I will be gone