The age of life humility pictured with faces in floods of pain impermeable shadows are stabbed with a sword of horror cold and impure in the hands of mad people. Enfolded with a dusk in a maze where no-one counts the time lost in a silent world of shadows where features of forgotten centuries in a fog make the everlasting pain alive in an hour before dawn. Deep under the dark water faces washed up by oblivion have a rest for centuries very close to sleep and death turned into dust and ash in a long sleep of balm death. The way through smoke and ash a meaningless way of life in a madness which goes slowly in an incomprehensible rhythm of killing black shadows of deep dreams are silent in a mortal cold they're laughing at hope, in its endless ascent for love.