Besedila: Drowning The Light. A Pact With Madness. III.

Slowly, through hologram portals
Chery surface cold, unmoving
Following the deluded trail of slime
Through every equinox and winding path
Following innumerable noughts
Casting their gaze towards the ground
Leper colonies breading like flies
Kingdom of the blind
What king would rule all this?
The smell of ritual fire and dry earth greets the hermit.
In silence is the loudest voice found.
The inner temper, the inner adversary
The inner peak, waiting to Boer reached
Again and again...