Along The Path Where The Stream Is Talking. I Breath The Mist And Continue Walking. The Wood It Whispers In A Language Of It's Own. As A Sigh Escaped My Lips I Feel The Light Caress My Fingertips That Steal Away The Breath And Leave Me On My Own, Waiting By The Stairs. Waiting. I Despair. Do I Hear The Hollow Sound, Footsteps Resounding On This Frozen Ground, Or The Familiar Disappointment Of The Echos Of My Own? Somehow I Ended Up Here In Between, Where There Is Always The Comfort Of Knowing I'll Never Be Seen When I Fall. I Wait For Just One Touch... And I Fall... Weightless. Endless. Faithless. I'll Adore You. A Single Touch Before I Fade. Painless Let Me Pass Through.