Cemetery Of Scream – Ironic

Road made of crosses

Way to the eternity

Symbol of the death

So ironic

But adored by the living ones

Crying their tears

Prying over

Over the cold stone.

Here is the darkness

Just the panic of the weird reality

Desire of lasting

Incessant chase after the unknown.

I can feel it in my vein.

I can grasp this thin border between the dew.

Over the green grass

Whisper of the distant trees.

Between the glow of sun

and the shadows over the dead mouth.

Here is the darkness

Just the panic of the weird reality

Desire of lasting

Incessant chase after the unknown.