| IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MAELSTROM OF THE FAST PASSING TIME
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| NOW AND HERE WE EXIST BETWEEN THE SHADOWS OF THE PAST
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| IN NEUROTIC LUXURY AND FROSTWORK ON OUR EYES
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| LIKE THE HOARFROST ON A MEADOW ARE THE PLEASURES THAT WE ENJOY
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| BUT THEN CAME DISILLUSION, A FEAR FROM YESTERDAY
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| AND NOW YOU ARE RUNNING
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| WITH TRAILS, TRAILS OF BLOOD
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| TRAILS OF BLOOD BEHIND YOU
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| WE WERE FALLING IN MADNESS WITHOUT TWINGES OF CONSCIENCE
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| ON A SHIP OF FICTION WE ENJOY THE AFFLUENCE
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| THE RESULTS WERE MOT HERE AND SO WE COULD NOT UNDERSTAND
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| AND AFTER THOUSANDS OF YEARS WE AWOKE FROM THE DREAM OF LIFE
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| BUT THEN CAME DISILLUSION, A FEAR FROM YESTERDAY
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| AND NOW YOU ARE RUNNING
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| WITH TRAILS, TRAILS OF BLOOD
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| TRAILS OF BLOOD BEHIND YOU
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| NOW WE ARE OLDER AND WE LOOK DOWN
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| YOU FAILED THOUSANDS O YEARS TO LOOK BEHIND YOU
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| TO AWAKE FROM THE DREAM OF LIFE, THE DREAM OF LIFE |