He who stands on the sacred threshold Covers up the golden Sun of Today Forming the rays of his own shadow with arms reaching further than light He who stands in the middle of the scale of the perfect balance Spreading bold determination to start the motionless motion
To cut through the source of the artificial light observing every stream running backwards To turn the back on shining promises of hope witnessing all eyes go sour and dry
As the horror of the unavoidable starts the Coldest Fire It rushes through every structure Leaving the pale burns of Dire Remembrance
His presence enclosed within like the nexus of a cavity compressed and tighten nothingness pure vacuum of the End His austere face manifests the stare of inconceivable dread Those eyes speak of no world No thing, no soul, no spirit
Now he opens his dire mouth the purest terror of no sound the bottomless pit of every goal the right venom for every soul
The silence of the inevitable cuts open the eyelids of a dreamer Sleeper's living spine bursts into cracks a whole construct of man into ashTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
