---

the last leftover of bleak colors around

slowly turning into a cold shade of grey

the weak rays of the sun of late november

in the end are failing to find their way

a bath in sulphur whenever i delve into memories

the despondend wanderer will never see an end

only a distant welcome for each new dawn

at last there is nothing left to defend

have you ever felt so naked

so cold

like now that the veil is lifted

at the cemetary of your dreams

is it still blood throbbing in these veins

or is it more of a sulphur-soaked steam

limbs that feel like enclosed in stone

thoughts that flow as a pitchblack stream

with every despondent glance behind

turn a little more into a pillar of salt

with all the weight of the stars on your shoulder

disappear into a soulless vault

have you ever felt so naked

have you ever felt so cold

like now that the veil is lifted

this is the cemetary of your dreams