Cry not for me, for I'll see no dawn
my blood runs cold, my soul is gone.
No more no light will my eyes but see,
no starlit night nor moonlight be.
Cry not for me for I can not hear,
for sound escapes the dying ear.
Swept along the halls of dead,
with cries of pain and moans of dread.
Cry not for me for I am no more,
my way has left through the shining door.
The path doth run read with blood
A raging torrent, a charnel flood.
Cry instead for those who stay,
for without the hope there is no way.
From ages past and lands before,
A hand awaits to open the door.
Cry instead for those that stay,
for I am dust and blown away.