"All around me darkness gathers,
Fading is the sun that shone;
We must speak of other matters:
You can be me when I'm gone.

Flowers gathered in the evening,
Afternoon they blossom on ;
Still are withered by the evening:
You can be me when I'm gone"

"What was it like, in the end?
What it always is. A handful of yarn; a little weaving and stitching; some embroidery perhaps. A few loose ends, but that's only to be expected..."

"Are you crying? … No, I'm bleeding"

I am not here to mourn.
I mourned the wrongdoings of my life a long time ago.
I am here to say good-bye to a ‘stranger’ who once gave me a good turn.
And to a ‘man’ who gave my life the ‘death’ it deserve.