On squalid and stony walls
When the mind to the thinking bows
Sexton of the stygian shrine
Is falling into the same mistake
One guardian is lost, one man understood
Still dust on the crown like legend
How many times the question passed?
No matter first nor last
Escape from earth to dungeon space
Two eyes suffocated by pointing words
Let the existence of the devil sleep
To see and feel what should have been given
If the serpent wasn't hungry
And she is ready to hold his sin
Farewell to the philosopher
In a century of damned tales
Age redolent of scorn with touchable things
Scavenged only by the abnormal force
Of the no choice
Still the sexton envenomed with fear in a funeral
Full of lights and fervent happiness of ignorance
With every tongue's speech revival reach