There is an invisible thread that binds everything, thin and fragile. I must have cut it, because I hear the song of the leaves and the wind But I cannot feel them.
Though, if it was called Spirit, God, or self-deceptive hope Then I have no regrets.
Screams echo within the forest.
Dort, auf einer dunklen Lichtung, tötet Apollo Dionysus. Doch während er weiter rein, kalt und steril bleibt, antworten die Sterne nicht mehr.
[English translation: There, in a dark clearing, Apollo kills Dionysus. Yet, while he remains pure, cold and sterile, The stars no longer answer.]
And all Light is now made from Ghosts Distant, obsolete, fading pages Calling me to Join.
I run towards the river of my dream All that is, was and will be.
It is gushing with Blood, true and vengeful Pulling me, towards an inward spiral Leading into the Heart of the Earth.