Crossing the unkown path of the eternal night with hope and fever as a gift is an unsane idea. Deads are inerts, souls scattered elsewhere
To believe that the idea of d**h deserves better than the reality of life is an archaic and deceptive concept. d**h is not about liberation or elevation, d**h is the only permanent state of life
Fall down on my knees, an angel in my arms
Shadows of the wheel, cycle of the pain, I'm here
Deads and goats shapeless built, dark clouds on my shoulders are so real
Fall down from my tears, devil with some feels
Cherrish fragile faith, brain lost in a maze of ruins and corpses
I'm there, you're not here, I'm here you're not there to cry
You're not there for me, why - Bleed, me and my fear
I know it, you will leave far from me, to sleep, buried inside your shell full of dreams
Burst my tears on your grave, flowers died so slowly
Mist of petals upon your head, stone cold as ice
Melt my tears in clay... your grave, my hell, your grave, my hell...