Black rose amongst scarlet poppies,
I'm not growing, the sun is ripping me out,
lost my dreams, destroyed my trophies
in the loneliest fields of shame and fault.
Black is my heart and black is my mind, ...
For a moment reigned some silence in our room
It was reason to be worried I assumed
My experience told me that when it"s too calm
I should gather in a prayer my two palms.
Cause in our unpretentious tiny house ...
To her home does't lead any trail.
Everything is grown with bushes and grass.
If someone dares her secrets to unveil,
There are many hurdles that one couldn't pass.
Her look is wicked, wicked is her temper. ...
The flame of old is kindled with a burning passion.
The hopes and dreams return in a blinding fashion.
The watcher sees through the flaming fields of smoke,
beyond the veil of the heart which in countless pieces broke.
Words fall short and stiff like a coward on the edge of a cliff ...
A pernicious petrifying choir of perished souls
from the depths of Hell the lonely wanderer calls.
With words long dead and whispers of the unspoken,
truth is laid to rest and the deceivers are forever awoken.
With the cunning Luciferian tyranny of the rational mind ...
Fear not the words of beautiful liars,
of snakes and of time-consuming vampires.
Fear not the slithering creatures in your feet,
fear not the monsters in the darkened street.
For fear is the most vicious mind-killer, ...