On this fall mourning, leaves are creeping and dreary. I scowl at this landscape desperately, where a thousand faces is hidden, but for Wise Men. Would this infernal and fantastic noise charge at the edge? Or do my shameful thoughts smile upon you?
I can feel, I can touch, I can hear, I can taste and I can see... My senses are trustworthy.
Oh Thee, blind friend and enemy, may this veil vanish in the haze and judge life as it is. No, don't be so sad, breathe, deliverance looks like death! Should this clownish and deadly role remain sunk in the depth of our soul? Or maybe my bitter feelings are leading to torture...
I can feel, I can touch, I can hear, I can taste and I can see... My senses are trustworthy.
I am tired of all those false illusions, freezing step by step... I am sick of all those arficial backgrounds, unsincere and speechless, filled with venom.
I can feel, I can touch, I can hear, I can taste and I can see... My senses are trustworthy.
May God drag them away rather than believe in those chains.