When you raise your head, can you smell the roses burning?
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In the garden we suffer
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When you close your eyes, can you hear the angels shrieking?
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In the garden we suffer
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When you lie asleep, can you feel the scalpels spiraling?
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In the garden we suffer, but remember that we were never forced there
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Together, hand in hand, head by head, the procession of fools
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Icon of fatalism
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Rite of the damned
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One more rhythm from the owl's heart before we all die
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When you follow the center path, you will live black utopia
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Beethoven's Children
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| Circle Of Dead Children |
