Each day in my short life I used to play with the cold waves. The dark river deep in the forest has shown me the death of thousands. I had an angel who was bold enough to chain me, bite me, torture me with immortal flames. Each day in my short life I used to chase imaginations: deep under the cold waves the empty air sank drowning; I wish I had an angel who was bold enough to lift me out gently, slowly and give my hope back to me.
Under the funeral moon, when the light was fucking shy, I saw her hiding near the mightiest stream under the black sky. I gave her my hand and we started to run on an invisible Road, which was cloaked by the rustling shadows of the lunar world. The forest narrowed more and more, and hidden looks followed our tremble. I was amazed by the Road’s impenetrable, gloomy sight, and I crushed her stiff hands in frenzy and with might. The frozen winds stroke her feverous sweating face, and the blinded shades ran about her long, dark hair. The vast trees whispered mysterious words – It’s been a long time since I’ve heard those fucking words. Suddenly she laughed wholehearted, and sang me a love-song to make me shiver. Then we marched together hand in hand. Nature sang of our victory - a triumphal song - to the wild trees of the ancient forest spirits.
-I’m ashamed, but my legs are getting tired, and I don’t really know why we are going so fast, why, why?
The fathomless darkness of the road became dreadful space she wanted to hold me back and cried out in love and fear. I looked into her eyes and another tempest striked me again and I started to run after the horrible, instructable riddle. She’d appear again – under the waves – if she did not follow my escape.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
