I'm walking into a moor you created for no one.
Phasing through ghosts which freeze my bones.
Their howls switch over into my head.
The dreamland I'm in, it starts to fade.
There are no bright meadows, no bright lake.
And the conclusion that raises in my head:
Is it all created by myself?
I noticed a light outside out of the fog
but don't really care for what it says.
„Come over to the reliving enclave“
but my mission of failure, it's not over yet.
- but there is no reliving light when the fog erases.
No one is here to hear your weeps.
Same moments and feelings in earlier years.
The forsaken ghost you're searching, she's not here.
Just the blank, deep pain – inside no life
I will go into the moor, spending time
to find another dreamland-limelight.
„Why can't you see that your journey is an aimless disaster?
No truth, no signs, this place was made for no one“
The dreamland I'm in, it starts to fade.
There are no bright meadows, no bright lake.
- and my torn heart bursts into rage.
The dreamland I'm in, it starts to fade.
There are no bright meadows, no bright lake.
And the conclusion that raises in my head:
Is it all created by myself?