thousand momentsYou were sitting below a tree. To be exact, you were sitting below this old oak, near the river. The setting sun painted orange stripes in your hair. The scent of the flourishing glade flew on the wings of evening winds. It was so peaceful, leaning your back against the trunk. You really enjoyed that - being away from the so-called "World" and so-called "Life", in your own precious harmony. The sight of the clouds on the horizon amused you. You chose one of them, that little swirly-edged puppy-shaped. You could almost hear it barking at the tiny frisking kitten-clouds. And as you looked it, watching carefully, it slowly faded away into the deep blue of the sky.You were playing with a butterfly when I first saw you. It flew on your hand, fluttering its golden wings. I remember imagining you, as you rise up off the ground, dancing with your friend. A silly thought, maybe. I found it nice back then. And it seemed somewhat possible, too. You turned towards me. I turned my head away.It wa
No magicThe sun has just set behind the pale mountains far away. Now the moon cast its glimmering light over the small town. Lazy wind swept glowing, fine dust through the streets. Tiny birds ventured abroad from the cool bottoms of their nests, where they hid during the unbearable sizzling of the cloudless afternoon. The town seemed all quiet. And then, when the clock of the spire hit nine, people filled the little square in front of the restaurant. They were streaming out from the place, in lengthy waves, flowing in the light of parafinne lamps, like glimmering salmon trouts up soothing springs in chilling mornings. Loudly chatting, only a few words of their speech could make any sense to the bystander."That was some trick" "Wow, that huge serpent, I ..." "Oh, man, I thought she would die there ...""Dammit, it nearly bit my head off!"The crowd slowly disappeared, finding their ways to their homes. A slight ray illuminated the billboard next to the entra
The Song of the Nightingale* Rain in red *The crimson sun withered beyond the skyscrapers. The ever-growing shadows of those soul-destroying urban gravestones painted the alleyway black. Cold wind carved the rusty walls, blowing fragments of dust through the mews. Heavy footsteps approached - footsteps burdened with wrath and spite. As they drew nearer, one could see a silhouette fading in from the darkness. Just for an instant, a bright flash - an exploding lightbulb - flared up near him. At the gleam, a face of a young man could be seen. A face one could call somewhat handsome, but no one really would - those eyes burning in hatred would silence anyone as quick as lightning. Those eyes, fastened at the end of the lane, spotted something. Maybe just a shadow, an illusion, the mind playing tricks in the darkness.- So there you are.- I told you already. If you value your life, you pursue me never again - sounded the answer.- Fool. You have no power over me.A beam of light glimmered on the blade of a dagger.
Wind lips.Why can't I kiss the clouds?I won't harm them, I promise!
Sanitas RetractitI don't need a meaning.Walk on, don't be afraid.The creatures of the darknessWon't leave you alone.No aim to follow.No light to guide you.And the creatures of the darknessWon't leave you alone.Don't need a reason.Don't need a path.Not a vision.Don't need to rest.The monsters of the darknessWon't leave you alone.No need to hurry.No time to waste.The shapes in the darknessWon't leave you alone.Never surrender.Already lost.Shadows surround you.Walk on, don't be afraid now.The demons of the darknessWon't leave you alone.I don't need a meaning.Days, weeks like dropletsFlowing away unnoticedIn the dark sewers.I don't need a meaning.Nothing remains.Beautifully blank paper.Burn it to ashes.Turn it to ashes.I don't need a meaning.Ashes.Turn it to paper.Beautifully blank paper.Beautifully burning beautifully blank paper.I don't need a meaning.No need to walk.The phantoms of the darknessWill welcome you home.