I don't know who, but someone
shot me in the chest.
But I managed to get up,
now I walk around dead.
My essence has escaped me,
colours round me fade.
My attempts to look alive
are just a masquerade.
I drift through the crowds,
no one turns their head,
and the Sun won't shine on me -
you cannot warm the dead.
Reflection in the mirror
paints a stranger's face.
Not one sign of life remained,
not even a trace.
Tell me, please, who killed me?
I want to ask them: why?
Or did I do this to myself
because I couldn't touch the sky?
