In the night of my final sacrifice I sent my soul
Into the vast and fathomless unknown to find a word
word, that indicates the beyond.
It came back later and spoke:
"I am myself heaven and [bad word] "

Sculptured in time as another chapter of life
Sharp are the thorns of the roses, which lay dank upon me
For too long I knew that I had to arrive
Yet destination isn't as linear as humanity
Touch the feeling - touch the soul
Touch the morning dew and see the glamour
In my stark eyes reflecting
The icon of a setting in a serene summer
So many flowers give away to mystery and loneliness
Their subtle perfume and their indifference
So much jewelry's forgotten in the soil, in darkness

But who dares to tread the silent meadows
That lie beyond the mirror of one's self?
Who dares to reach the phantoms of one's heart?
To behold the murderer of life and art?
And what is death?
What gives birth?
What sells good or has no worth,
When everything you feel is cold?
Why am I? Who's this hand?
Whose decisions I [bad word] ..
But isn't history foretold?
There's a tide... in the affairs of men
Which, taken of it's flood, leads on to fortune
But all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and miseries...

But if you desire to see the light...
As it [bad word] is, clear and bright
You must move - back into the shadows