March 1995Whatever in this world you are going to find.It's
February 1998Today's emptiness, tomorrow's dream.An addiction, like never seen.A
UndatedLost in the grains of sand,In an hourglass of misfortune.Seperating
January 1997Alone again.Again I am desolate. Again I am left
December 1997Autumn will scream from inside of me,Not a false
December 1997Return from yourself, the reaper of my fieldsReturn, for
March 1998Remember...Return...Reverse...Realize...Remember me, as fading images.
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