Cold

Walking alone in the darkness of moon
Through the millions of faces and souls
With the hope I again entered this room
But night just crawls and crawls

Following hate of the fantasy hope
Searching for the end of the day
Black-clad voyeur is taking some dope
For eternal misanthropy to went away

Empty galleries with pictures of dead
Silhouettes with the tragic blood
The decayed darkness is blackened red
And the spirits are praying to god