***

My chest is not breathing, my eyes can not see
But freedom has its own way to get fee
No matter which word of forgiveness you spoke
I always revert like your habit to smoke

You will see my hair recoloured by grass
You’ll read all my words from a misted up glass
Though pack of my bones just belongs to a dark
I’m now everything, everywhere at this park

At that place my footsteps are nothing but leaves
My kisses for you are just drops that rain leaves
I’m always behind you on your way to walk
Despite you’re a stranger mom said not to talk

My scent is still living on your fingertips
But their imprints washed away from my hips
You’re dreaming about me from night have begun;-
I’m sure you do know the time I’ll return…



Это мой первый опыт с английским и, я думаю, поэтому здесь не совсем очевиден предмет. Речь идет об убийце и жертве и о том, что после физической смерти жертвы они каким-то образом поменялись ролями.