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IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MAELSTROM OF THE FAST PASSING TIME |
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NOW AND HERE WE EXIST BETWEEN THE SHADOWS OF THE PAST |
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IN NEUROTIC LUXURY AND FROSTWORK ON OUR EYES |
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LIKE THE HOARFROST ON A MEADOW ARE THE PLEASURES THAT WE ENJOY |
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BUT THEN CAME DISILLUSION, A FEAR FROM YESTERDAY |
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AND NOW YOU ARE RUNNING |
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WITH TRAILS, TRAILS OF BLOOD |
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TRAILS OF BLOOD BEHIND YOU |
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WE WERE FALLING IN MADNESS WITHOUT TWINGES OF CONSCIENCE |
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ON A SHIP OF FICTION WE ENJOY THE AFFLUENCE |
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THE RESULTS WERE MOT HERE AND SO WE COULD NOT UNDERSTAND |
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AND AFTER THOUSANDS OF YEARS WE AWOKE FROM THE DREAM OF LIFE |
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BUT THEN CAME DISILLUSION, A FEAR FROM YESTERDAY |
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AND NOW YOU ARE RUNNING |
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WITH TRAILS, TRAILS OF BLOOD |
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TRAILS OF BLOOD BEHIND YOU |
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NOW WE ARE OLDER AND WE LOOK DOWN |
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YOU FAILED THOUSANDS O YEARS TO LOOK BEHIND YOU |
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TO AWAKE FROM THE DREAM OF LIFE, THE DREAM OF LIFE |
