Inseason - the secret code of fate


a frozen city is shining
white dead left for the white dead streets
my quest is to find the point – so easy:
all roads ever built led to this place
i don’t know any therapy
which could cure my apathy
naked silence and desolation
solitude in an infidel dominion
a ghost is falling in melancholy
frozen tears on rust fed stones
secret code of fate
determining my life as a shade
chill rises form this garden
somewhere out of perception
i don’t mind any therapy
which could cure my apathy
my future is enprisoned, inseasoned
forever with oblivion
december flower bloom of a closed cold night
i’ve touched the gate of the times,
forever sought, mourned into stolen times
hope choked by mourning
nothing left to understand
i don’t know any therapy
which could cure your apathy
naked silence and desolation
solitude in an infidel dominion
you don’t mind any therapy
which could cure your apathy

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