The Windmill Grave
Nicolas Aubé
Gone, gone crazy
A vivid picture, a cold breeze
The flags are, stubble upon the grass
The windmill grave, it never falls
Seeing true beauty as a whole
I’m gone crazy
I’m gone crazy
I’m gone...oh no
The sun faces the clouds again
We are at the end of the flame
A shred of light burns my skin away
Fall into a whirlwind of dreams
I’m gone