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Night falls again over good tendencies.

Red beams from sun on dirty roofs.

Spaces filled silence waiting hole.

Arms of the climber they are sore.

n’ I see something you breathe the faint string of our time.

Cradle of hearts, inside out.

Night reveals myrrh amid waiting spine.

Moon gasps the faces of the lost.

Drop til the sewers say refusal.

Arms of the climber are sore.

n’ I see something you breathe the faint string of our time.

Cradle of hearts fall inside out.

I see something you breath from the birth of veins.

Inside unseen the lungs of life.

Shrine at the will I feel your grace nest

Flying under bats, thru flesh goes echoes.

Blind as I am in showers of sorrow.

In trees they will seek, so high we won´t see…

Gray skies be my eyes, thou will see.

Gray skies my ol’ friends. I seek thee.

I cannot see black lines in blackened getaways.

Where pleasure ends and bane begins to grow up.

Is all beauty u, torture, another cruelty.

Infinite playing fields with bones – an ancient mistake.