Listening to the warning, warning of the past
Nobody is talking, there's left to trust
The sore point of living, somewhere lurks the truth
Embraced by the screaming, of damned youth
And I still don't know why
Why do you cry? So lonely
Poor root of religion, dismembered by time
The spirit has own reasons, to enter the calm
Sooth locus of rapture, where no life dwells
Dawn of the madness, the earth is part of hell