I thought the time was young, but yet so old
It turns to me with its sadistic face,
And all the stories are today untold
As in my mind the sorrow has no place.
But hurry now, because the spark is ill
Like some archaic plagues that burst away;
With courage near and shadow i shall kill
A humble voice of arrows to a grey
Salvation from the holy snow shaped beard.
The root of god is whiter than a cloud,
So we are worms: that's what i'd always feared,
But i destroyed the suffering and proud
I'll put my name in front of priest and saint
For I shall stay a soul who doesn't faint.




05.06.2008