Hopeless gloom and the identity of ideas In this world of bright lights and flashes I am the smallest grain of sand, a fragment of passions I am driven by a surplus of desires and tensions
The postmortem Library of Alexandria Reveals its secret treasures, we drown in them It is a digital stack of desires A culture of known but unreachable pleasures Run to the end In this realm You will never find yourself, nor believe in self If you are enslaved
A culture in a form of bacterial reproduction Forces me to leave my comfort zone Everything around is a mess and destruction No longer I feel lucky, only alone
Wisdom turns to water, draining through my hands Slowly vaporizing, it returns to me again Gentle drops of rain fall over my skin A fear to lose is the most destructive sin
Suspended in time Lost treasures return Blind daredevils and rapists Reap the fruits of short-term victories Fatly erring and fatally erroring They desperately sway history
Sharp knives don't know the truth Their desire is power Bullets never see the innocent Their destiny is fire
The gates of hell are open The nether world is empty We are the slaves of cluelessness and fear All of our deeds are real We are the demons who pretend to be Vestal and righteous Vestal and righteous
Hopeless gloom and the identity of ideas is all that I have In this world of bright lights and flashes I am the smallest grain of sand, a fragment of passions I am driven by a surplus of desires and tensions
Denounce the false light Trace the advent of the night Denounce the false light Trace the advent of the nightTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.