You"ll come with me - one gloomy day, before next Easter -
You"ll steal my singing voice to keep at safe and listen,
You"ll see me falling from the darkened sky of winter
And cross the lands and seas to find each missing splinter. 
You"ll come with me - somewhere, away from fetid, sleety
Place called fake Heaven, from brick hateful city... 
You"ve been awaited, traitor, painfully desired:
Having no mercy on myself, feeling no sorry, 
I waste eternity to pick crumbs of your glory,
Enticing you to nets, and making you admired.