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Tell me the fairy tale about the wicked shepherd
And leave me a book where Pilate
Is ascending the moonlight ladder.
Fragile beating of a soul frequency,
Inevitable fading of the freed energy.

Incense, word and soul impetus
Will summon the slivers of the
Darkness, gazing in the corners.
Believers come, believers won't notice,
Believers die with the urge to know the naked truth,
Although the only thing they are to gain
Is the naked silence.

Freed energy, freed energy…

When Tarot, pendulum and
The deep midnight hiss in the ear lose,
The steel needles of insight are always win,
Slapping in the face with the deep down hidden
Answers of the reality.

Tell me the story about the dying girl with matches.
And take away all the Larvae
Of the cold grip of childish fears.
Cold arrows of the answers of insight
Are about to kill my flesh.

Incense, word and soul impetus
Will summon the slivers of the
Darkness, gazing in the corners.
Believers come, believers won't notice,
Believers dying with the urge to know the naked truth.
Although the only thing they are to gain
Is the naked silence.

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