The Carrier Of Sorrow Transforms
Peccatum
The sand was made of mountains Hvorfor formNrket du mitt mNrke; Hvorfor Mnrkner det I meg? As I shalt write Your name in the sand My own land Will fade too late And where do I then hide The sand was meant For nothing The moonlight meant For all But resentful too Giving my betrayal to you The sand was made OF mountains The clouds belonged To the sky And grateful too Having received wisdom From you Drops of rain covered me And I finally become wet Tears are dripping from me now Down to the father of men And you; my fellow angel; Can inhale the spirits of no Age and origin Again... And as she felt the rain; she died; She died again; and she died even once more. And they shalt be reborn From where they were forlorn With the power to destroy Everything standing in their waynone.
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