It was all true, a parlour strode, and the night sets forever...
I stray in the quiet cold, and you gird me when I dear to listen.
Elastic meadow, endless arms of sorrow, lips try to form "because"...
Trying to adapt to the wilderness, when even foes close their eyes and leave...
We are inside the glade, every now and then I wipe the dust aside, to remember...
How I drape my face, with my bare hands...the same that brought me here.
And you were beyond all help. The folded message that wept my name
Shadows skulk at my coming. We survey the slopes...
In search for the words to write the missing page...the tainted dogma
Time goes short as the piper plays his tune. We are almost there...
You are beyond all help, dancing into the void
We are almost there...