Withering Away I'm going astray Beyond the maze Of fibres of doubth
When the eyes burn low In marsh of sadness and vanity When the eyes burn low You poor, dying
Pursued by the past I don't feel any future Unbelleving in the present I feel more nothing Thorned by remembrances Unable to feel, to do
When the eyes burn low I'm drawning in the marsh When the eyes burn low You poor, dying
To cut the veins And then - fly away Suicide and curse I don't believe in the the Savior Tears of helplessnes You poor, dying
I feel a change When the eyes burn low.