The snowflakes have finally fallen down to the Arctic's Bed
Covering it up so well that every seems dead
Even in this terrible condition, there still remains the living soul;
With whom life is inevitable; remaining alive his only goal

Even in his loneliness he will survive, yet he is not alone
He has his thoughts that he cherishes but there is still a moan
Thoughts can not grow within, but needs the Dream as complement
But the Dream can become a nightmare even as an experiment

Amidst all this confusion, the experiment is still in progress
Until the living soul accepts the Dream's mess
Do not despair, he is still there but with a tear in his eye

In a simple twist of motion, the tear began to dry
Extinguishing the dream, establishing the ocean of red
The snowflakes have stopped falling down to the Arctic's Bed.