| (Sleep took me... | |
| ...I'm unsure, so unsure) | |
| Now september fattens on vines | |
| And roses flaking from the wall | |
| Here I'm holding you for the last time | |
| And I know | |
| All phantoms keep on passing by | |
| Why could I not feel it coming | |
| I hide my tears behind cold hands | |
| Pale love lost in the winds of torture | |
| See this knife still bleeding while | |
| Her pulse declines | |
| ...and light since then is a keyhole | |
| Rusting gently bleeding | |
| This life is creaking along | |
| But still I am seeking | |
| I cry in praise of the lonely act | |
| Of not feeling a strange tongue | |
| Forced into my mouth | |
| Do not come before me now | |
| Do not come, visionary face | |
| I can feel your wild confronting stare | |
| An equilibrium that puts a blame on me | |
| Guilt burns in me | |
| Fear growls at me | |
| I am crumbling | |
| Away | |
| A mighty nothing darkened | |
| The unconscious years of suppression |
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