Your darkest hour was When you woke Still absorbed in the cotton wool of illusion
When you banged against the thin needles Decorating the otherwise ugly wall of disillusionment
Your soul was extracted from you with tongs It hurt so much, you cried with no voice The pain pushed you to the edge of an abyss On the other side of which you’d see lava And flames so white they froze you.
The tongs were cold, icy cold And all inside you glued to them When they were pulling at your soul Extracting it.
So that you lost it Tears felt out of place The darkest hour – jumping the train to The Happily-Ever-After dope.
there is my Muse: here. and that is what I did to блесна – пред погледа, в сърцето й и пред света:
2. the feeling or idea that one is superior to others
3. th flng r d tht n s sprr t thrs
4. thrust newspaper redhot flung thought
5. toss press icy thrown senseless
6. a soul frozen and opressed
7. my soul is frozen
opressed by senses void
tossed beneath my mind
8. supremacy of mind