This is the wake.
Curtains closed.
We have gathered here, in this white room.
Let your lips form the farewells
addressed to the one who can't hear.
She is sleeping now.
She is sleeping now.
Someone is here
behind these walls.
Calling us to follow him.
To die.
Shattered under sickness was she,
the most precious beauty demised now.
Dressed in black, we sit by her side,
kissing her white skin against our sorrow.
She is sleeping now.
Just sleeping now.
Someone is here
behind these walls.
Calling us to follow him.
Someone is here.
Fearful voice.
Angel-like.
Ice-cold hand.
Azrael!
This is the wake.
Awake!