Besedila: Shape Of Despair. ...In The Mist.

Slow my feet are
frozen their veins
still closing helplessly afar
waking the creatures within

I am a lonely traveller awaiting to sleep
eternally under those cold woods
as my fall brings then

shadows of their wings as howling their
pleads wounded, I lay on ground
listening their needs

It's dark and cold and they fly slowly and
they know surely they raped my soul