By Frank Peter Hermsen


In the shade of an old church-steeple

Between dead leaves and howling wind

On a tree beyond an overgrown grave

On a creeping, deadly, eternal rope

She hangs now with open eyes

Filled with tears dry and cold


Promised was a short, quiet crash

A single moment, a final pain

A death-rattle meaning goodbye

And a final farewell to the insane

Hope for the eternal redemption

And for tears around her grave

For a sea of flowers and

Beautyfull words for a life-long slave

A sadly farewell to someone

With a noose around her neck

And with the piercing knowledge

That she will never come back


But she is still alone

Waiting for death to lead her home


A life without breathing without crieing

Sleeping without silence in her heart

Always searching always crawling

Her feet become cold, the symptoms start

Her short, quiet sobs noone can hear

Everything changes into a terrible fear


Promised was peace and eternal silence

Her release from her tries to blast the wall

Her release from ignore and disregard

Her release from reaching nothing at all

Knowledge of the riddles in her past

Wisdom about everything that is

Her desire for a helping hand

Her wish for an unambicious kiss

Her desire for truthness

And for a real warm heat

Her wish for a knife to cut the rope

And for something to warm her feet


But she is still alone

And there´s no death to lead her home


A sudden movement - neverending

Her last hope terribly dies

A short moment filled with panic

But she still can´t close her eyes

And with the last sound of this song

Her very last breath has been done


© FPH 91

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