The urge to run away,
to surrender to the smothering existence dies
when you look at me from the depths of your eyes,
pitiless but so healing
I stand alone, now even the sun is my enemy,
and darkness overcomes
but in this blank night perfection is bound to be created,
no light means no limit.

The soft whisper of the night nymphs
sets the mood of creative destruction
everything sacred and deviant burned,
melted, liquid visions and lucid dreams
everything loved and hated forgotten,
the pages of repeated history erased
the white canvas bleeds,
with chunk of my black heart I draw to it’s comfort.

And a new world is born, not better,
but carved from grace with my hands
where god and I unite,
and together we dream of thrones unclaimed to be mine
so are we the creators of our destiny,
or just unhinged and feeble minds
ignorant, locked inside this prison of lies,
and shall we ever ascend.

Now descending legions come blinding from the skies,
but the skies are red from pain
and dancing minions made of devouring light
under her command slumber to naught
because my kingdom is born every night,
and in dreams it seems I’m the king of fancy supreme
of fantasies undone that become alive,
with fear or respect, or just in pure amusement caught.

But how much longer we’ll have to beg for the mercy
of the burning rays of sunshine
is there no a man of brave kin,
who will slay the sun and grant us the night
and the dreaming sin.
Oh you who plays with verses,
speak no words nor blessings or curses,
but stand proud and fight
and the time will come when our heads will bow before you,
the liberator and the slayer of the sun.