Roar of wars was covered by the heavy cloak of dust Noises of steel reins were broken in echoes Air sweetened with blood Pagan rabble Fallen under the flag of antiquity. I like to breath in and I devour greedily Each little drop of the times passed away Times of blood and of primary love as well. In the evening falling into dark I speak to faces in the walls They are much older than we are willing to understand And also stronger than us, time and the power of oblivion They are engraved into walls by songs from universe. I like to listen to the narration of the endless labyrinth of horror And at the same time I feel the most material and intoxicating power of times With which I feel to be bound.
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