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A quest for the supreme grace
The highest and most refined
Form of precious lifeforce
The blood of Jeshua the vampire

The holy grale of immortallity
Unholy relic of our race
Filled with the occult elixir

When the cursed all are banished
Doomed to that devouring furnace
Summon me among the blessed. On my knees I fall (before them)
Grant the dead eternal rest perpetual light shine.

Day of bitter Lamentation
When man rises up from ashes
Doomed to Judgement Lost and Guilty

[Mayon O:] "I feel no Gravity. We cannot move at all"!

[Gaia:] "Relax, probably this is a temporary condition...
Else we will just have to get use to it!
When I lost my sight I learned to feel the night,
depending on the senses that remained available.
In the beginning, I felt like I was inside a different world,
although I wasn't. But this world of sounds, smells, temperatures

Do you feel my sin
My warm breath upon your skin
Your world is pain
But I am the life
I will seal your fate
(with) Neverending joy

I can wipe away your tears

They created me as their sword
And clothed me in chaos
So my form may be ever hidden
In the shadows

I am the mask, the will,
The punishment
Of those that were

The facial muscles of the bracelet's owner are asymmetrically scretched.
His mouth is closed, compressed from the weight of anxiety.
As for his black optic sensors, they are casting sparks
in the dim luminosity of the room.
An electric storm of thoughts is raging inside them.
For a long moment, his contact with the external environment is broken.
The kind face of his procreator managed to sneak
through the unguarded gates

Time was running out, and the people knew it.
The ethereal dome was not visible anymore.

The Trip is not so Long:

In a deserted dirty station.
A passenger is in wait.
He has a ticket for the last train.

As I think of you.
With cries that pierce me to the heart
For I own all the beasts
Of the forest beasts in theirs thousands on my hills.
With cries that pierce me
To the heart my enemies
Revile saying all the day
Where is your God?

In a small silver room, two figures are resting upon a bed made from skillfully crafted granite.
An eerie purple light is emanating playful shadows.
They crawl spasmodically from their feet to their faces, in a frenzy rhythm.
A circular chasm is carved on the cold slabs of the floor. It is their source.
Nearby, behind the glassy eye of an observatory, a group of four is watching with great interest.
They all wear their special insignia of infinity, in ethereal necklaces that make
quite a contrast with their grey uniforms.
On of them is dressed slightly differently from the others.

For a marble, without shape...
For inscriptions, not to obliterate...

Don't cry, for my vain strife...
Death will always thrive where love hides...

Sorrow descending...

I saw your trace, on wet soils of empty graves.
I wanted you for me, but you belong to all...

A rooster used to wake you up, now slaughtered bleeding in your hand,
it seems to be a brilliant feast for your keen appetite.

Your answers to my questions, feeble, pitiful evasions,
A truth living the day has bitten a nightmare through haze,