It may be a dance of knives
A bloodthirsty desire
Brick by brick an empire,
Built in the sands of oblivion.
Hands tighted as bolted
Lips clashing through fire
Each step takes higher and higher
A raw cell that quickly evolved.
Then came the thunders,
The Sturm and Drung.
From love to hate, down to under,
"A lost man", they once sang.
Souls became fireflies,
Flowing throught the mind and its emptiness dark
And life became a small bound of lies
Between shadows and every heart.
No more whole, no more part,
No more hours to elapse
Just the end at the begginig
At the end of every start...
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