A legend in his own mind, Now sinks into the rumors, The rumors of himself, he never knew Enthroned by the lies, His time is frozen, Ice flows through his veins. The sheets of empty canvas, The untouched brushes, The fading colors, The silent violin, Passively, they have stolen the time. His mind is infected, By the plague, Beyond the mortal healing. Shrouded by the black velvet Hurling like a tempest in the sea, Where every wave rush, For a penultimate destination And there you are, his supreme paradise. Will he complete his paint?