| <How Like a Winter> page <The Winter Near> album page |
To the Farthest Bound of LifeWintry and desolate in this hallA long way to the farthest bounds of life Waiting on a shore, where I can't see any boat But my reflection on this noxious water Ut moriens obliviseatur sui qui dum viveret oblitus est Dei Phlebotomize and drunk up 'cause life is a lie is a lie... Here in what they call the Swedenborg's room a long long hall where thousands lay in misery a sad gathering where no one can feel other than a coarse blade on their neck unearthed corpses from unearthed worlds Lost this is death only a roaming without sense without senses without end |