cowardice, this chain of events. gather and plot the ensnaring of me (ensnaring). gone now the sense of lust. is there a cost for the reckless excess?.
Born of laughter. Strangled by sin. No remorse. Mistreat the soul again. . No features. The blur of things denied. No return. The cross to bear is my own.
For we're the outstretched fingers. That seize and hold the wind. . The strangeness of awakening. In an oh, so silent world. Breathlessly waiting for the first.
Make enemies of truth and reason. In that a rage is born. Start out a promise and a venture. Where direction was never the goal. . How does it feel. To run out of nothing.
Insufficient facts make up for a frail foudation. Breeding the obscene for the opinion customized. Is the insight null and substance void upon these wheels.
neither here nor there in our unity of twine. solitary sanity, traded in for life. . once we crawled into the artificial night. all was left and I arrived on your time.
By the wind and by time, by everything that flees. A torment of my liking: exploring extremes. All thoughts secluded as fear stalks its blooded soil. In the winding path where a chain now rattles.
Through the power of free will. Our sin is confusion. Dna , rna, love an illusion. . The media's shocked because of another fucking suicide. I wonder when they'll realize they're doing this eye to eye.
[music: Jivarp, Henriksson, Brandstrom]. . What comes as no surprise. To a jaded mind no less. Insight comes from soothing grace. Left to waiting days.
Uncontrolled spaces. Lifeless til provoked. Deep uncharted oceans. Nonexistent til claimed. Great raging fires. Silent. . When there is no one. When no one is mine.
[lyrics: Sundin]. . A shimmertrace of divinity lost. in the beckoning midnight vault. (We are) lulled within the wake. of a cold November's nightfall.
what late forgotten nights to emptiness has given. and now november morning will be taken asunder. the shovel stained with dirt in the hours of belonging.
It's all this reeking ego craves. The sun to never set. Why do threads of anger never linger?. Why does the ember turn to stone?. To where the longing goes.
Bet you think Im stay home every night. Bet you think I cant wait to hold you tight. But I not thinking of you at all when youve gone. And only once I stumble and fall just when I.
Lyrics: Sundin. Labyrinth of time.... Mine alone for now and ever more. (I'm all alone...). ..and I flew. above sepulchral monoliths,. nebulously dancing beneath the dew.
There is this face in the still water. I can't remember ever wearing. Like fingerprints on your heart. Reading out the last lines of code. To the untrained eye a secret.
Act I: The Death of Balder. . Autumn came to an end. And the first snow began to fall. Balder's face was clouded. The dreams of warning had called. His mother sought oaths.
All that's now been broken. On streets I dare not walk. Freedom is an illusion. I build my fences high. If there was something out there. I have learned not to expect.
Summer 1657. A tailor's daughter in pain - bewitched. A healer had told that the witch will be revealed. Before sundown a woman known as evil appeard.
We no longer support ourselves. We live through each others tears. We no longer caress, no longer take hold. 'Til this will be over again. . The dream is over when all this begins.