Guide us upon the straight path
Of those whom you have blessed and favored
Not of those upon whom wrath comes
Nor those who go astray
My body is feeling sick
Without bents which God gives to me

How I wish to stick me clows
Deep under your breathing skin
Oh, whore, my nature...

At time when storm wins
Cold wind takes my human image away
Material feeling is now unreal
The ancient Gods
At the and of my way

Bleak horizon before my eyes
Helpless creatures are colouring sea to red
No vitality in dying sky
In the gasping air

I swallow my pain
Going through the loss of flesh
To reach the darkest side out there
I open up my secret face
Child's evil smile is judging my meat
Those civil thoughts
Surrounding my being
Suffocating my desires