Last Christmas
I saw the world burn
Last stars flick for us
Where no one shall return.

So I could feel it
The world ending
The last bomb peeling
Your precious skin.

And akin to skies,
Akin to stray soul
Sweet lies lay
Where the word shall fall.

Where the word shall fall,
There lies the last of queue
People of conveyor, lay low
For all of us, for all of you.