The souls' memory reaches back over our previous life.
I'm still rejoicing in my hope that I will find you.
I'm flattering myself that you are trying...
still trying to hunt out my despair.
Don't let me hear from you... thereby
You'll give an impulse to my sheer madness.
I force myself to live only by painful sadness,
By my obsession... I believe. You are.
The sun is in our eyes.
What makes it hurts our souls?
Too little light is left at heart,
It's sharp against the background of the dark.
The pale glow's coming to the stabbing glare.
We feel like obstructing the dazzle light not even care
To find out real causes of dislike.
I used to play with my subconscious ghost
Only to live through yet another sunrise.
I hate illusions that were never lost.
The vain illusions of the spiritual nothingness.
The astral lust uncovers our weakness.
We've already built our private hell.
I'll worship love (it's non-existent)
As long as fears come out of their shell.