Δεν ειπα οτι το κρυψες, απλα τωρα το πηρα πρεφα εγω
Ελα τρενο θα πατε f4.
Δεν ειπα οτι το κρυψες, απλα τωρα το πηρα πρεφα εγω
Ελα τρενο θα πατε f4.
Remembrance of Things Past
I swarm deserted away, like glass...
Warm, and as fevers,
I am as flame.
I am death...
For I, I weave our blasphemies...
Wicthes painted me,
Like the mysteries created me...
Like where the poets breathe,
I were woven into blasphemies.
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