Album: Anomima
I saw your trace, on wet soils of empty graves
I wanted you for me, but you belong to all…
A rooster used to wake you up, now slaughtered bleeding in your hand
It seems to be a brilliant feast for your keen appetite
Your answers to my questions, feeble, pitiful evasions
A truth living the day has bitten a nightmare through haze
Which left a trace on empty graves…
I wanted you for me, but you belong to all…