Every footprint blurred by the alien dust. When the lights are put out, the wine and cup too. And those doors which kept vigil all night, lock them all, no one will come here now, no one!
For whoever had come as my savior, had left me yet with another scar. The fire of deception, regret and melancholy might have turn cold, yet the scar burns and burns infinitive. No one will come here now, no one!