Special, he was.
The only one who never enjoyed the words,
my only one he was.
...
She was somebody's daughter,
she was nobody's wife.
She was somebody's death,
...
My blood is your wine,
Your pain is my theme.
We were.
...
You were my father,
and my lover.
You were younger,
then you looked.
...
The crows are hunting
a little white cat,
right above your head.
I see you looking
...
Cold and stony streets,
broad and scary woods,
the festival has begun
in the name of the Baroque city.
...
She goes to bed to die,
but she wakes up blind.
They imitate her eyes,
but can't activate her mind.
...