Слова:
Ved Buens Ende Those Who Caress The Pale

Strange how mysteriousness bound us and drags us through these dark times Strange how the twilight encourages us and fills us with awesome pride. Strange

wither in the absence of your thoughts. So I cry..... I cry not only for my spirit in its living shell. But for the ones who used the lust for me.

has met its end. A wanderer I am indeed..... the son of the moon..... and I will carry mountains soon. A burden I was for those who woke the sun I threw

how mournful we are, soon to be given wings. The wings that gave the swan his pride. And the tears that watched the sun die. And you..... You who threw