|
I walk among the withered graves |
|
Through the corridors of time |
|
Halls cast in iron and stone. |
|
I speak through the darkness of my soul, |
|
I see a flame flickering in a distant corner |
|
Like the beacon among the stars, upon the nightblue sky |
|
Far away on tracks unveiled |
|
Beyond the treasures of history |
|
Whispering to me... as the wind among the trees |
|
With the tone of the soft, complaining flute |
|
Thine eyes mirrored in chaos |
|
Exposing thy very self |
|
In the night |
|
I shall come to you |
|
An image by your thoughts created. |
|
A child born in thy mind |
|
Created by the illusions of life |
|
So far away from reality |
|
All are forsaken |
|
Take a step through the mirrored halls |
|
The corridors of time. |
|
Voices echoing |
|
From the walls screaming |
|
Telling tales lost in time |
|
Tormention in ages we dimly remember |
|
A distant light shimmering |
|
As one walk through the catacombs |
|
Into the endless spheres |
|
The rays enlightening the void of life |
|
Echoing voices in the dark |
|
Oh How the wounded cries |
|
Twisted voices never fade |
|
Resounding through eternity |
|
No describing words |
|
Into the endless spheres we float |
|
Entranced by the beauty of the tormented spirits |
|
By their grief touching my heart and soul |
