End of life, end of life!
The cracks on their old faces.
The smile of the newborn babies.
Provokes a twister of strain, ideas and thoughts.
The case is gone and closed.
The end is almost here.
One way or another you will need your cure.
You will come and ask for more of what you will have to see and feel.
We will always be connected to the obscure...
Is what I am seeing true?
Or is it a different view?
Are all the colors black?
Or should I let it go?
The dice will draw the secrets of this show, and chaos is the winner and your sacred vow.
Sleep fresh, die decayed.
Is what I am seeing true?
Or is it a different view?
Are all the colors black?
Or the glass of my window is black?! Dirty?!
Reflects the darkness that burns my eyes.
It's crystal clear!
The dice will draw the number of the year at which your parts expire and disappear.
Sleep fresh, die decayed.