i saw a lover in those shadows a fusion in the wake of death that took its rear in tracks of sanctity like bodies crushed in piercing light for we are theirs and in its distance there is a concord that demands even the slightest of all ventures to shed the world and go along four pallid hands on a wounded back your shrines are open eyes formed in the junction of disruption in trembling archs of bleeding doves by pallid hands of inner murder caressing my cheek with profound smiles four pallid hands on a wounded back your shrines are open eyes in an empty room when the chord of wound resounds in everything and the corpses turn inside i know who comes for a wounded back take the pallid hand we are destroyed four pallid hands on a wounded back your shrines are our open eyes in an empty room when the chord of wound resounds in everything and the corpses turn inside i know that he comes