Tears of blood. Latent instinct that paints the flesh to the virile blow
Of the wind that blows in the horizon. I nail you in the cross.
You´re hands to bleed, a pagan sight, as the darkest deet.
When the doors close to the first songs that astonish the lights
And ilustrate the darkness.
I know that life is poverty, decadence and pain that fade as candle.
The only praise. The day fades and brings the moon.
Living in darkness that seems to be mute. The blackest day of humanity.
The day´s truth covered by blood.