Trapped in a world tragically abstract
Bleeding the material excuses
As if the worshipped sufering

Even so they dreaming
In the almost perfect
In a old winsdow and still in a starting point
To the power equals knowledge

Temperamental with the sad reality
Out of himself before meaness
Nothing can save him from his end
The cremation

Apparently he searches the pain
But no, he seeks the peace
A different kind of peace
That even attracts his hangman

Loving a promising futures to his heirs
Since this own turned to a darkned room
Sorrounded by solitude wainting his death
It soon take him sought peace

Even its death is something to bestial
So bestial shattering his spirit
So archaic and still, so original now a normal thing
This is a part of him