End of life, end of life!
The cracks on their old faces
The smile of the newborn babies
Provokes a twister of strain, ideas and thoughts
The case is gone and closed
The end is almost here
One way or another you will need your cure
You will come and ask for more
Of what you will have to see and feel
We will always be connected to the obscure

Is what I am seeing true?
Or is it a different view?
Are all the colors black?
Or should I let it go?

The dice will draw the secrets of this show
And chaos is the winner and your sacred vow
Sleep fresh, die decayed

Is what I am seeing true?
Or is it a different view?
Are all the colors black?
Or the glass of my window is black?! Dirty?!

Reflects the darkness that burns my eyes
It’s crystal clear!
The dice will draw the number
Of the year at which your parts expire and disappear
Sleep fresh, die decayed