Violet fields, blooming at the nameless crime in the light of the empty screens

pulsating ray short shutters of hatred ritual dance of shadow gestures

Lodge of scoffers, tangled hands

humiliation, blooming on the breasts like a weed

transfused on the paper, the makes endless marches of

twisted and sick gestures, insane shapes

Evil, diminished to the measure of a tear in our might, small as the empty words

madmen on the sock of glory'n'tradition darkness will come, bringin' the relief

I won't see the face of god when he'll come with bowed head

legs in the slime of dirty life left in own hopelessness

on the armchair of illusions I will submit the sentence

I'll stay the moon saving the cadaverous light

on the violet fields of extinction