By Marcus Dwemer


I am cold.

Quite Cold.

Strange and quaking in the vapors You poke sexy snakes above the mud Damn! The Knight will come So evil within the sky I extort glowing witches behind the air Awake! The day is hard Quite cold near the sea
You speak to dream-like rats over the shadows
Yo! The twilight must continue
opaque hungry 
where the light comes from 
so many roads to choose from 
In how many places  the lost man  leave his home  never knowing how.

The lust is dying Dark and sensuous before the flowers You prod lustful hands over the shadows Take cover! The pleasure continues
unsure nameless 
a long way from home 
sun on his face 
To what end 
the sailor  take another road  before help could come.

Can you feel the cold?

I am cold.

Quite cold.

I sit in my garage, on this cold autumn day.

I am cold.

Strangely tiny under the shadows We feel tiny tomb stones over the vapors Tighten up your wig! The sin is going So dark above the wind
We swallow tiny evil about the mist
Heavy! The bastard will come again
Weird and grotesque within the earth
I swallow electric demons above the clouds Ahhh! The demon will go wary tired  blurring at the edges  nothing to lose  In whose arms  the hero  go without luggage  in the late light.

I am, quite cold.

The thought is over
All florescent before the fog
I battle blue disasters beside the mud
Be wary! The King has gone
Evil and lustful against the vapors
I meet green disasters in the grave
Oh God! The evil will vanish penniless awake  walking out of the world  any wind that blows  On what journey  the witness  go without luggage  not knowing why.

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