Limitations in manners nailed deep within
Spreading as internal flood
This pea
The most delicate master
The drive, the core of our source
Ticking, that insane sound
We dance to the running of hours
Programmed
Certain to die and become an image of those deeds
No
Far in the pale horizon
Burning shadows still hanging
Remnants from the
Abuse of intoxicant emotions
Owing all that you have to the
When you tricked them into your condemned dream
You didn't know