Our lands guided by the sun, the father of gods, the destroyer of worlds Fall into gray(ness), into depths of sorrow and despair The wave of sight we see gets hard inside my nerves The black phantom of the welkin is now a miracle of the blue
Our thoughts, the sickest visions, become reality through our mind Out impulses, the centre of the light paint the horizons of the future events
Open your mind! Your purple aura does not shine anymore
Find the right path! With one step get out of illusion
You paint bland landscapes, one dimension reality as a blindman you look on the flat wall of liquid colours Think it over! Where is the end of your perception It's only your flesh corrupted by senses, machine of creation
"It was me who created this, made your light, painted landscapes, only black is fading, the smooth movement of colours you don't understand is the barrier to your ideas... ...dead creations of a blindman..."
Your mind is guided by cosmic intrigues you don't know whether you vision is reality You have to surrender to my landscapes or run away beyond yourself into the dark depths of the night.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
