The city of bronze lies in the ether
Forgotten such a rotten widow

Floating on an eternity of black foam
That inspires the horror and despair
Here, the sense of time is strange
Cycles escape the human reason

The people, tired, doesn’t count hour anymore
They languish, all wills annihilated, all desires mutilated

The twilight synod reigns over the city
With the practice of his unknown art
Three times by cycle, he chooses seven thousand of his subjects
To take them in the basilica of sobs.



In the entropy, they are tortured with an unsuspecting sophistication,
And they nourish, with their tears, the black foam
Where the Duke of Change crouched.

And they return to their dreamless life
Emptier than before
And they return to their febrile inactivity
such a dislocated carcass.

Floating on an eternity of black foam
That inspires the horror and despair
Here, the sense of time is strange
Cycles escape the human reason

In depths of this ocean of tears, the Duke of Change delighted
In his bubble of blood he laughs when he thinks about the pitiful life,
Worse than the death and the oblivion, that leads the people of the city of bronze. For these men and these women the suffering is the only leisure that comes to break their boredom.

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