I do profound the death, Inside which it weakens me. Not mine acting does it cause ..it is in fear. But blindness thou see in every mortal - dreamlike thought, including in me. Beheaded I am, greedly waiting besides thine grotesque being. For a saviour of this soul had it even ever been ? Thou all art but blind fruits, in mine created bowl; Only feeling my hunger to thine flesh, as stars have come old. It Is a desolate night in me again, so I was told. Carried I did the shadow alone, to these crystalmoors. With a bare arm and drop of blood ..as I do recall. My reasons for vast profoundness, are deepen far away. By the shimmering light of the "ill-face" I do stand pale and tall... Wandering about in darkness questioning myself Was there ever a day at all ? Music: Azhemin Lyrics: T. Mensivu
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