When life has ceased,when the termination of the
traditional spirit and catastrophic barbaric desolations
swrrounds the core of my linear cold menace,feeling the
power and reflection of the inner winterwich is always
present in this cosmic landscapes of sorrow. Are the
winds and whispers ashes of an ancient memory wich tries
to release the thousand pictures of agony?(that lies
dortman in the rustand and frost of my cosmos within...)
Shattered and deceassed all the once bright possessions,
that lead this strangeland are now just a feeble flame in
my soul...