At the end of every opening
Where no path is left to walk
As all weapons are forlorn
He speaks in tongues inside her mind
As above, the skies are grey
They step into the walls of night
Where saturnine flowers are in bloom
Dazing the sleepers eternally
Age flows without frequency
Running tides overthrowing paragons
In salacious senselessness
Promises of foreign lands
Where the hills are as blue as the sea
And the dying sun like blood

INVIA LE CORREZIONI