The first morning, the first time you realize you've laid it to rest yourself.
That god died in you, and I couldn't save you, even then.
"Lord come into my life."
These scars that never heal and the clarity that allows you to feel.
Enveloped, like the dead enveloped.
I wanted to change.
As if being discarded were that easy and the nights ended up being that empty.
It's so much more free, you were led by no one here.
This place is warm the change is definite.
And I've been stripped down, time and time again.
And left for the gray, and the cold.
Your voice changes pitch and blurs, like a storm carries a ship, you couldn't save me even then and I should have known that.
A bit sad not all into russian :)