Drowned by the moon.

One single feet on the ground.
Two eyes closed disconnected and an open mouth pointing at the sky.
She built a circle this morning with her own blood,
Near an old oak with all the legends that it left for us to tell.
She put all her clothes outside the circle,
and called the name she learned to spell.

"Mon nom ne se consomme pas, il se porte et il devra mourrir"
"Sur l'aile d'une de mes pensees j'avais graver tes initiales"
"Au contact de l'air il a pris feu et detruit la fleur qui y avait grandis"
"La lune fut jadis pleine mais helas ce ne sera plus jamais la meme"

A full moon was standing naked in the sky.
Behind her in the scenery was a star made of human flesh.
A heart was found living in the middle of a sea of blood.
Wearing a thousand scars and the love of our future generations.

A door is open in my head since that day.
Sometimes it's only gone swimming to a river nearby.
But in the meaning of the unknown,
If tears are blood...
Should we leave our ghosts at the door?
If tears are blood...
Are tears drowned by the moon?