Cold Raw To Quench Dying's Thirst
Who Lies On Despair Mud
Sweaty Front Forebodes Delirium.

He Begs Once More Before Starting Migration.

On Distance The Chorus Of Parcas Sing Your Name,
Shuddering You Pray
And Recogninzing Your Voice In That Sattirical Echo

Like a thunder
Which switchs off a dream
Like a hand
Writting a verse
Like a road in the time
Passed that moam.

A mask without smile
Blessed the traveller
A bag full of utopia
Weighing like winters.

What hides behind your eyes
What hides behind you