Primordial spells have been written on water's surface The abyss silver heart conceals the eternal prayer Fire and wind contain the timeless secrets
My will is invulnerable like air with the sound of my voice the universe shrinks in a wrinkle of pain. Listen to me. I will nourish your flesh with blood
Purple flames celebrate the new warrior's feats while dry tears take the old triumphs to a silent death The old men's corpses consumes in an obscure
This is the archetype that pre-exists the man Evil is an inner voice that transcends the life's principle It is shameful and sharp, but secretly desired
Move your body to the rhythm of passion Let senses overwhelm ratio Don't ask anything to yourself Don't waste this moment The echo of weeping is armored
Diaphanous figure who silent rides death's wisdom It's said you came when the weary sky was sinking into its eternal sleep And that only your cry would
Imploring visage An invisible barbed wire has encircled your wrist Leading you to an irrepressible scandal of sincerity I will quench your eyelids forever
Beautiful witch give light to this black muddy sky Snatch darkness from these hours devoid of evening and morning devoid of stars and funereal lightnings
Bewitched by the eternal rhythm of divine breath, perverse he smiled to the prickly knock of rain drops, his body was cruel like beauty, his eyes incandescent
Splitting of median entity Practice of doubt I look for the truth in the silent shine of your eyes Speaking with the forces of the air Good vibrations
Disciples of obsolete and unthinkable commerce scrawled in Etruscan language Dependents on not yet synthesized drugs People of the black market of the
Celebrate and praise the dead spirit Bury your hopes with him Nobody and nothing can rejoice me except the world of pretence. The god doesn't deserve
Distorted walls cannot tear the lights of thunder and the flashes of reason If something must still happen, it shall happen following the rules of anti
Words confuse and create equivocal thoughts Thoughts silently transmit our inner essence The eternal silence leads to oblivion. I am contradiction, the
My life is made of emotions, passions and horrors, 'cause when you truly live you can even fall into deep pain My bed is made of small fresh leaves,
[Blondie cover] Call on me, oh call up, baby. Call on me, oh call. Call on me oh call up, darling. I know who you are. Come up off your calling chart
Purple flames celebrate the new warrior's feats while dry tears take the old triumphs to a silent death The old men's corpses consumes in an obscure dust
