Back Into The Shadows Lyrics by Agathodaimon
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In the night of my final sacrifice I sent my soulInto the vast and fathomless unknown to find a wordA word, that indicates the beyond.It came back later and spoke:"I am myself heaven and hell!"Sculptured in time as another chapter of lifeSharp are the thorns of the roses, which lay dank upon meFor too long I knew that I had to arriveYet destination isn't as linear as humanityTouch the feeling - touch the soulTouch the morning dew and see the glamourIn my stark eyes reflectingThe icon of a setting in a serene summerSo many flowers give away to mystery and lonelinessTheir subtle perfume and their indifferenceSo much jewelry's forgotten in the soil, in darknessBut who dares to tread the silent meadowsThat lie beyond the mirror of one's self?Who dares to reach the phantoms of one's heart?To behold the murderer of life and art?And what is death?What gives birth?What sells good or has no worth,When everything you feel is cold?Why am I? Who's this hand?Whose decisions I can't comprehend...But isn't history foretold?There's a tide... in the affairs of menWhich, taken of it's flood, leads on to fortuneBut all the voyage of their lifeIs bound in shallows and miseries...But if you desire to see the light...As it truly is, clear and brightYou must move - back into the shadows
In the night of my final sacrifice I sent my soulInto the vast and fathomless unknown to find a wordA word, that indicates the beyond.It came back later and spoke:"I am myself heaven and hell!"Sculptured in time as another chapter of lifeSharp are the thorns of the roses, which lay dank upon meFor too long I knew that I had to arriveYet destination isn't as linear as humanityTouch the feeling - touch the soulTouch the morning dew and see the glamourIn my stark eyes reflectingThe icon of a setting in a serene summerSo many flowers give away to mystery and lonelinessTheir subtle perfume and their indifferenceSo much jewelry's forgotten in the soil, in darknessBut who dares to tread the silent meadowsThat lie beyond the mirror of one's self?Who dares to reach the phantoms of one's heart?To behold the murderer of life and art?And what is death?What gives birth?What sells good or has no worth,When everything you feel is cold?Why am I? Who's this hand?Whose decisions I can't comprehend...But isn't history foretold?There's a tide... in the affairs of menWhich, taken of it's flood, leads on to fortuneBut all the voyage of their lifeIs bound in shallows and miseries...But if you desire to see the light...As it truly is, clear and brightYou must move - back into the shadows