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They say that those elements that don't match will be cast away

That is the pattern, that is a knife and a man

Pieces of body apart from the form

Wounds will heal with time

And now thousands of grains of sand are marching on,

Entering the corridors drilled in my head

By worms hatched from the fruits of shady trees

Growing on the junction of veins breaking in eye pointed at

Distorted awareness chaotically curved

In steel hands of passion

This is the man, one eye, one hand, one lung and a half of the heart

A healthy soul follows a handicapped body

There aren't many of those…

A handicapped soul follows a handicapped body, those are safe

In the gardens at the gates which they used to crucify their dream

A handicapped soul after a health body

Those are the Pilate. Of the third millennium

Boasting of their body marks on their hands

In the trial against those condemned for their dreams nobody appeals…

They will be safe depleted of the awareness of their errors

How easy it is to live under a hermetic mask of ideology,

Strangled conscience has faded away ….