Violet fields, blooming of 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 marchs 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 illusion

I will submit the sentence



I'll stay the moon saving the cadaverous light

On the violet fields of extinction