I speak in wounds and not in hollow words, You answer tears - the purest of all springs, I write with dreams that cloud the mind and hurt - This paradise lust and the joy it brings… Barons of the barren world of flesh, Slipping through the sleeping agony, Rotten to the core, but smelling fresh, Lost in a lust that should not be... Then all stars have fallen as a veil upon all hopes And my dreams, so faded - they tremble in their rust… A mere ghost, haunting limp, looking for a life, To earn the place of the angels in this paradise lust…