I speak in wounds and not in hollow words,
You answer tears - the purest of all springs,
I write with dreams that cloud the mind and hurt -
This paradise lust and the joy it brings…
Barons of the barren world of flesh,
Slipping through the sleeping agony,
Rotten to the core, but smelling fresh,
Lost in a lust that should not be...
Then all stars have fallen as a veil upon all hopes
And my dreams, so faded - they tremble in their rust…
A mere ghost, haunting limp, looking for a life,
To earn the place of the angels in this paradise lust…
