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The day that stands in front of the night
Borrowing in all its principles and lust
A calling for the young spirits
Produced in the back-space of the hard alleys

The spirit shakes upon its flesh and bones
Each of us are deranged by small things
But together we walk upon a path
That leads us through midnight, in the narrowest
Of gardens

Upon its flesh and bones!

We seek for strange subliminal sensations
We measure the weight of our losses
Upon the white snow everything collapses
But again regaining powerless feelings

Make it stop the waves of conscience
The red waters push like an unforgettable vibe
But we seek for strange subliminal sensations
And leave the crows outside, to devour life

And I lay with all this hate!

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