By the time the first drop fell, The last one was already glowing in his eyes... To survive it had to fall. To he couldn't let it be...
The journey was long, but it seems to be shorter when you can't see the end. With closed eyes one can go far when one doesn't know where to go. It is when one believes that the Moon will not lose the way And one will strong enough to hold the oath. He is closing his eyes and turning back not to see That the face of his home doesn't belong to him anymore. Wise, old trees sough bidding him farewell. He walks his path. The voices of the forest like whispers of his daughter, Who he had lost.
The face of home is bidding him farewell Voices which he had lost... Closed eyes of his beloved home Can't touch this holy place...
One of those voices is surely the voice of a little ghost rakes with the wind it's father's hair aside. With tender hands it puts soft leaves under it's father's feet. With dew it washes his tears away - the of his suffering... Last drop will fall.
The face of home bidding him farewell Voices which he had lost... Closed eyes of his beloved home Can't touch this holy place...
He's the man who promised himself to find what is already gone. His untiringly heart asks birds that sing like she sang. He forgets to listen to the answer, listening to their song, But doesn't want to understand its meaning. The Moon is shining brightly tonight. is a good guide. A gentle shade leads him tenderly to goal of his trip. This ghost shows him a monumental and crystal clear Great waterfall which has it's source in him deep inside. Last drop will fall.
He takes his little Angel and holds him in his arms He didn't Now let him go away.
One drop of the Waterfall... Now let him go away...