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White as snow lie my lover`s bones

in the soft, velvet soil of the vault,

And I, his bride, sleep by his side,

To celebrate our sacred love.

At times it seems that I`m existing only

within some fading memory,

But dreams are all sacred, dreams are all holy ... -

And, by far, still the safest place for my poor soul to be.



Do not speak of the terrible place

that guided your war-horse and your living stake !

We are dancing in circles with the dear living dead,

We are blessed with the corpses that coil `round our necks.

Please, don`t speak of that terrible place,

That once guided your war-horse and your living stake !



We are taking a walk with our dear walking dead,

Feeling blessed with the corpses that feed on our necks.



I caught a glimpse of myself on the other sphere

and for a fleeting moment I forgot the tears.

Dreams are precious ... and - OH - so is sleep,

This, my safest, yet ... by far ... the most fragile of all retreats.



Do not speak of the terrible place

that guided your war-horse and your living stake !

We are dancing in circles with the dear living dead.

We are blessed with the corpses that coil `round our necks.

Please, don`t speak of that terrible place

that once guided your war-horse and your living stake !

We are taking a walk with our dear walking dead,

Feeling blessed with the corpses that feed on our necks ...

White as snow lie my lover`s bones

in the soft, velvet soil of the vault,

And I, his bride, sleep by his side,

To celebrate our sacred love.

At times it seems that I`m existing only

within some fading memory,

But dreams are all sacred, dreams are all holy ... -

And, by far, still the safest place for my poor soul to be.



Do not speak of the terrible place

that guided your war-horse and your living stake !

We are dancing in circles with the dear living dead,

We are blessed with the corpses that coil `round our necks.

Please, don`t speak of that terrible place,

That once guided your war-horse and your living stake !



We are taking a walk with our dear walking dead,

Feeling blessed with the corpses that feed on our necks.



I caught a glimpse of myself on the other sphere

and for a fleeting moment I forgot the tears.

Dreams are precious ... and - OH - so is sleep,

This, my safest, yet ... by far ... the most fragile of all retreats.



Do not speak of the terrible place

that guided your war-horse and your living stake !

We are dancing in circles with the dear living dead.

We are blessed with the corpses that coil `round our necks.

Please, don`t speak of that terrible place

that once guided your war-horse and your living stake !

We are taking a walk with our dear walking dead,

Feeling blessed with the corpses that feed on our necks ...

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