Born in virtue, the will lies dormant
Comforting hand shelters from horrors of doubt
As a shining armour. As a living shell
The sense and the structure preserved in ages
True revolution comes from true repulsion
This road is paved with splintered bits of justice
Ridden with denial and strewn with ashes of angels
With none to lead the path and none to guide to save shores

A war is being waged within
To choose who stare straight in the sun - no man shall see and endure
It takes great diligence in methodical erasure to pierce the very core of culture, and only after the monuments are crushed it turns out the pedestals were abandoned
To those who defy the truth - hell pales next to the fileds of astray
True revolution comes from true repulsion
It's a land of plenty yet no waters can quench our thirst
Contrition and repentance seem like bitter sarcasm
This is the point where tragedy and irony are dissolved in apathy
Perdition is at hand. No apokatastasis
The sense and the structure: Lies of the fathers