Текст песни Sculptor - In the Call of the Walls

Behind your fogs,
The earth is crumbling under your feet.
It will cut off from the world
In which you too often stepped over the threshold
And clung to reality, blurring
Its symbol is a stream.

They bring space together.
Bending the essence.

Whim - the snakes fell asleep at their feet.
The curtains were drawn on the bed.
The theater gave a lifeless term:
Throws into sleep and seeks support in the world.

They are terrible with concrete, they are faded with wood.
Dream paint covered ...
The last table is set.
The last garden is closed.
The last you, forgotten by all!

The power of madness
In you, it flows down your hand.
And facets and grace
Floating on the wall.

Another world is heard in the call of the walls,
The day there is so similar to yours.
Breathe in again and again
The screeching of the walls gives a start
Death of material darkness ...

Enter through a dream, through the edge -
He will miss under the yoke of pain.

“Keep me on your lips.
Keep my name in your temples, forget
That once you lived like everyone else -
The last slave.

You are nobody and you are nowhere.
Trust my hand.
Leave this nagging world, down!
And follow me ... ".