Once a dream did weave a shade over the place I used to rest...
A bastion of calm I'm free of fears, safe from the feverish holes of life...
So it went pale and dark and cold, despite ethe fires in my veins and through the burning rain I felt a stab...
I blaze and squall – a shape's rebelling...
I drown and fall – a pain is claiming...
What is the shape of grace? What is the hunters face?...
Once a thorn pierced in my flesh, cutting the words I used to quote for being sure that I still breath, for making a heart obeying laws...
So I spat blood and tears and fault, staining the carca** in the fieds and through the warm ashes I felt a spark...
I blaze and squall – a shape's rebelling...
I drown and fall – a pain is claiming...
What is the shape of grace? What is the hunters face?...
Farewell, my ghost...
It seems a quest is over, cause a star is dying down...
We have sated the animal of suffering, that brings us back to heaven... To our innocence...