Blackie / Big Boss



Rullbräh : I´m learning the anxiety of happiness,

it seemed deceitful long ago, but words of praise urge to birth

a harbinger of butterfly flight.

Rullbräh : Glory of spite, delight of blood,

Happiness of happy - go luckies

and the forever mute,

of strong only in beauty and vulnerability

living in the sorrow of their souls.

Propeth : I come acorss happiness

without looking for it,

lost in the bottom of bitterness

in the garden of faded flowers.

Rullbräh : I´m listening to the whispering of voices,

about the blossomed solitude of anandoned eyes,

solitude agitates my heart.

Rullbräh and Prophet : I will no

longer, may be when I wake up . . .