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The Winding Ridge

de False Noise

When light is dying
At the black grave,
Tached by the wings,
Carried by the wind

When moon is crying,
Through the sad sites
Dreaming at the virgin
Virgin...

When angels...
And demons
On crosses
Are falling down...

Dreaming at stars
And clouds to shiver
'cause bad ghost
In hurry sorrounds her.
Wresting strips
From her white flesh
And cryed for her pureness.

Wresting strips
From her white flesh,
Big her eyes
Seems to be so pure
And empty
But still they are
Sawing the darkness of life.

When moon is crying,
Dreaming of the virgin lost
Lost into demons and life...

"lost into eternity..."

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