A hundred suns, born to kill

it is madness, a sun created by man-

once again a perverse irony

Stand up youґve got to manage, I wont sympathize anymore.

And if you complain once more, you meet an army

I'm far away from home,

I see the deep blue sky being in a different time,

Nothing matters, no one cares

We have

You're the source.

My disbelief in innocence arise.

Feel that gosth seducing me.

Try to reach a hand in that golden circle.

You are no angel.

. Sylca

This is a war.

Everything normal smashed.

Cruelty comes down the land and there only losers.

Fight up until the end.

Death becomes

I would like to see

What becomes of me

A reason, a failure, displaced it be

I would like to know

When

my hope - our world - bursting due

to the closed - minded thinking

of the shortsighters

grinning

Coldness surrounds me, Iґm filled with fear, in this room of nowhere.

Tell me whereґs my soul, I move

what urge me to do right?

the emptiness - the conciousness of living in

the void of the feral muting