THE FINAL ROUTE
(Vlad Tarasov)
Dead water on the open wound
Face is under a mask of a vampire
This world has turned around
This world is ready to die
The train of the lost runs towards the North
To drown in the abyss of ocean
The last demonstration of force
The brakes are eaten by corrosion
The great riddle of self destruction
No memory ahead
No more reincarnation
Oblivion instead
Burning the bridges, the final countdown
A train of the dead, a route to nowhere
A race through the damned and nameless wastelands
The ark of the conquerors, ugly and gorgeous
Sick cities on the banks of a river
Black waters, iced streams
Blazing sparks of silver
Maelstrom of sinking dreams
A splash like an ulcer on the wound
Cold stone, iron of machines
Clouds of war in a bloody-red glow
Tears of God, poisoned splatters
In the emptiness of Cosmos
The future will dissolve
Annihilation, chaos,
Exterminated souls