Besedila: Lantlôs. Neon. Minusmensch.

The grey wind covered the last windows with dust
Where are all the souls?
buried and expelled
degenerated to ghostlike shells

You can see the behind weak backs
Bended, their face buried in their hands,
corroded by poison, paralyzed by ether
Fading figures.

Where is all the yearning in their leaden faces?
They hunted it down and killed it
Drowned in wine and estranged via syringes
set into whores and paid with cold.

Disembodied, gasping, I tumbled
In the flush of a thousand cold lights,
through this night of neon,
That I'll never belong to