---

The passion is over and only

wind is singing it's wild song in

the deserts of reason Time runs

like the wheel of torture and

sweet, wearisome, muddy reality

melts together with my flesh

Salvation - in silence, but I can

not listen silence, cause silence

betrays itself by it's inner cry

And the flow of filth together

with it falls on the virgin soil of

ignorance's paradise The world

put on the shroud of tears and

everyone eats the fruits of sterili-

ty All the distorted, hypnotic,

depressed leave you face to face

with thoughts Everything seems

to be madness all in essense

emptiness The absolut - absur-

dity The events - fancy You

yourself - is nothing, the frag-

ment of somebody's thought.