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através do peito aching da terra larga
eu não posso sempre sentir seu greatness
glass-blower do tempo
como um homem despido mim vai
as máscaras da noite estavam caindo rapidamente
e pão do breaketh mais
levantado dos mortos
com seu cabelo que flaying descontroladamente
fora do profundo e da obscuridade
glooms dos viv-carvalhos
todos aqueles tesouros que se encontram
porque então, a obrigação nós vê?
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas

 



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