A gentle throb, a warm breath,
The consciousness of travelling,
Of the mysterious end
Distinguish us from cold shadows.
Mute voices in the universe,
So different, so anonymous.
Creators in the arts:
Orphic, evocative spell.
It's cosmic harmony which gets lost
Into the infinite emptiness.
The Grave
Autor: Gothica
Album: Night Thoughts
The Monk
Autor: Gothica
Album: The Cliff Of Suicide
Medusa
Autor: Gothica
Album: Night Thoughts