END OF THE CENTURY

 
Songs of gallows sounds, ground is opening, hot is lava from Krakatoa.
Thoughs are escaping on the way to nowhere, gods raise a war club.
Pretty little monkey is playing in lianas, mankind gambler blinded a sight.
In darkness are churches, during a burial chorals, a dead raise a face at the sky.

 This is the end of our century, this is the end of century.

Wave with hands, welcomes an unhappyness, believing to masks - they donīt care about faces.
Adore opium, slave a thoughts, united they are in deadly smokes.
In the ruins of destroyed metropolies, children are plaing, during awaiting death.
Insaned by radiation, with bare heads, calling of mother sounds from bloody mouth.

 This is the end of our century, this is the end of century.

[BACK]