Soul Snatcher کے بول

You are picking crops of the acts Acted and no existed Tunnels to infinity Gloomy, cold and wet Are Gaping like beast's muzzle A lots of gates are open On the edges of mind and dreams Lack of time is your the worst nightmare Feelings against instincts Slowly dying with resistance Where your bodies rascals Are going for a butcher Pie after pie, for pieces Step by step to the edge Scattered in the abyss, lonely Your fate-your choice Rapid stream of time is a transformation Against you and for you Whispers-answer for unknown Naked triviality of life Shroud of darkness surrounding the souls "Dreams those small pieces of death How I hate you"