IRC-Galleria

Fear, sickness, when once is too much
ThereÂ’s no feeling within me and a touch can kill

On the road of light itÂ’s more obscure than we knew

The evil inside, how many times shall we die again
before finding the way back
Far away, from a clean road
I smilingly betray even myself

ThereÂ’s aversion underneath the cover when being cornered
Naked and prepared to receive
as time after time one falls down anyhow