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We are wanderers on an inevitable journey, following our natural instincts.
This is the absurdity of life and of human existence.
Always torn between hope and the certainty of death.
Trapped in a constant dialog between silence and noise.
Life is a sisyphean masterpiece.
"What is called a reason for living is also an excellent reason for dying." - Albert Camus


Born in dead embers and covered with loss
a wanderer on its path
the imaginary as a prophet
as a guiding light in the dark
chasing time while seeking for knowledge
an insidious silhouette - born to fade away
still building our temples to see them collapse
through the gloom of the night
whispered words of wisdom


The blood red moon drips down to earth
while entering the void
echoes and shadows in a world of illusion
the gift of life became a curse
darkness inflames the spiral path
deep inside our rotten souls
daylight slowly fades to black
bury my existence in despair
i watched the serpent's eyes
but got poisoned by words
i'm drowning in lies
in a burning world
planting seeds of obscurity
in stillness and solitude we will remain


let me carry the corpse of a lifetime
let me carry the weight of it all
dry the tears by the grace of time
worship the ritual of death
an illusion to feel safe in a house of glass
while hours break away like porcelain
shades of oblivion dancing around
but some refuse to see
once left the sacred womb
as bleak and desolate ghouls
an illusion to feel safe in a house of glass


i lay down under the frozen sun
next to the ones i knew
glorious gaia - please let me leave
a tale at its end
a story done and told
cold air shrouded in darkness
silent and beautiful
i walked for miles
i lost it all
it's a story done and told
let me go, let me leave
a wanderer at the end of his path


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