I swarm deserted away, like glass...
Warm, and as fevers,
I am as flame.
I am death...
For I, I weave our blasphemies...
Witches painted me,
Like the mysteries created me...
Like where the poets breathe,
I were woven into blasphemies.
Warm, and as fevers,
I am as flame.
I am death...
For I, I weave our blasphemies...
Witches painted me,
Like the mysteries created me...
Like where the poets breathe,
I were woven into blasphemies.
song info:
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![Ved Buens Ende - Written In Waters [1995]](https://cdn.lsistatic.com/img/pixel.gif){kind=tracking}