How to tell a myth from the fact is what I never know
Gestures I am not aware what is nice or not
After foggy mornings end in dissonant air
The wreath never fit the head so a thorn can be
Light is blinding, what are we doing now?
The realm you keep never welcomed me not as outside
Doors are closing, who am I to unlock?
Ice cleansed my thoughts only to bear more
Winter of no other becomes the last, the fatal
Of cursed tomb my fate is as always as barren
Choked in blood that has froze is nothing
How to see you is the impossible guess
Cautioned me not to take seriously
But I'm never in pragmatic sanity
Let me do all what I want
Let me dream as if they'll all real
Let me live so I'll be dead!
