A red throne screams my name,
nothing is the same.
Who is the one to blame,
that sanity went insane?
A melody of silence,
questions any existence,
silences any presence.
Heartbeat's died to be timeless.
An emptiness left to see, to feel.
In the darkest will,
grows the biggest thrill,
only nothingness can heal.
The ship has already drown,
only steel hit the ground,
made the fate proud,
proved sin never makes a sound.
The whole world underneath a throne,
born without a backbone,
is to egomania prone,
as to earth is stone.
A light from moon dances at midnight,
when all words are out of sight
and pain has nothing to write
and every star has already died.
Where are the faces born in gore?
Now they grow on the dance floor,
as the moon has opened the door,
to let every regret live more.
But when ignorance stands tall,
the music dies with the last note,
the red throne is no longer small,
in this empty, silent hall.
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painting : Ivan the Terrible and his son Ivan (Illya Yefimovich Repin)
background pic isn't my
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