Behind
Hell's Island
You’re walking behind the door
Your lips are running across the door
A shiver and silence
You’re breathing, I feel, it’s slow
But soon the sigh becomes a storm
A dark pure rain comes
A true dark tear drops
Swallow pain
Sliding on silky wails
Painting hopes
On my skin your nails
The door we burn
The wax strains on our beings
Lines on my face are broken years
And the cross forsakes
Last bottle, awaking
An early taste of you
Last time, in bloom
Hollowed the pain
Sweating on sweet wails
Carving hopes
Under my skin your nails
The door we broke down
The wax strains on our beings
Lines on my face are broken years
And the cross forsakes
Last bottle, awaking
An early taste of you
Last time, in bloom
A disappeared, used and naked Christ
Tomorrow maybe won’t rescue from oblivion and icons
Alone with you
I eascape from the shelter
Fragile shelter of the sneaking solace
The wax strains on our beings
Lines on my face are broken years
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