The drops of sweet mixed with a rain
Washing walking bodies of the pain
Their fallen life filled by depressive borrow
The death has meddle into suicidal sorrow

Murder - the better escape from...
Siskly entertainment has resulted to primitive
I stand at reflect of moonlit light
Compressing human dammnations of night

Walking victims dissecting the past
Trying rebel I from the dust
I feel, that I can read their dreams:
"Honey, I fly to you through my tears!"

I don't want more to see! What for to me my eyes?"
The silent parade is finished. The brain rises:
"Here it is very cold. Where my warm skin?"
"Metal blade is so old. What you mean?"

The column has disappeared in darkness
My mind was lost these native bodies:
"I want to resist
But I already deceased!"

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