Too many stars fall on our eyes

Useless words get wasted every moment

to protect lazy religions

I feel my heart getting inflamed with blood

while the sand-glass slowly turns to

stupid pawns programmed for breathing

Everything looks unchanged:

the solution of an aenigma which is late in coming


An umpteenth godlike creature

leading you to Toyland

where everything, everything smells of sadness

and nothing allows you to look at it


But are we the ones who thoroughly move

thanks to the promise of another frame

before we start dying once again?


Too many stars fall on our eyes