I am on my knees in the midst of the black forest.
I pray for the dawn to come. I pray for the stars to shine.
Those who bring a plague. Those who spit diseases.
Now I belong to them.
The cold stones. I have lost my path.
The needle fingers stick into my veins.
Vertigo. A falling and fear. The heavy burden felt on my back.
My skin is torn. The idols are colored in bloody red.
The madness. The leaden air.
The cold stones. I have lost my path.
The needle fingers stick into my veins.
Was I born to suffer? Was I born to die?
Will I be broken by the idols or will I stay alive?