I don't remember my face, I don't count wrinkles. I have never created idols For worshipping and hating them. I keep terrible secrets Of those who are gone. When clay knocked their coffins I was standing alone...
If I could see the absence of a sense... If I could hear but not listen... If I could know life is so empty... A curtain would drop earlier...
It feels like strings vibrating Somewhere inside of me... The source of my life pulsates Deep in inner devouring horror... A torrent of words reflecting my thoughts Falls by downpour unto me... I behold a world of parallels Painted by withering imagination... Now I set free the warm of life Through a door closed so long ago, Now I get used to feel cold, I escape this reality... Ruined...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
