Giants In The Fog

No man lives so poor as he was born
We don't remember pure sensations
Gaze peacefully into the past
I am dust , and to dust I shall return
Belial, Mephisto, both shall burn me up
Devour my sad whimperings
The cutting whip is mine to feel
No symphony in mind to colour my dreams

Poena damni
Sorrow everywhere
Please pray for me
When deep sleep falls on men
Father hold me
I am yours to bear!