Horizon of the depth
as the fog surrounds my being
takes control and slaves my moves
Motionless I stare in emtyness
as bodies fall and disappear in darkness
of my borderland
Is this fake, or is this real?
Am I sick, or am I cured?
Overwhelmed by the dominating density
Not a word to break the silence
Nothing visible to fear
So what can we do ...
with my possessive senses?
with my borderland?
Is this fake, or is this real?
Am I sick, or am I cured?
Implanted anger rising
A decay within my dreams
Inner urge to relatiate upon my enemies and friends
Weeping gently in this moisture
and this quivering inside of me intoxicates my senses
Is this ground I stand on holy
or is this just my borderland?
So what can we do ...
with my possessive senses?
with my borderland?
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