Not… More… I am not any more….

Drifts of the deer in the jungle
My ground is plundered and my name without heart
Will of the cursed people
On the other hand on lost dynasties
Fragments in fragments of worn stories
The Black ground has me honni
In Junkie, I wander between seas without water
But… I do not know who I am.

The axe in the nape of the neck, of the feet out of tomb
Allanguis by the dreams of a cosmos in exile
With the drag, my hatred crumbles
And the smile of Phinx is diverted
Harrassé in crossed of an infinite illusion
I do not know any more who I am.

My weapons overcame my reason
My desires conquered my emotions
By obsession my impulses honours the war
All cries, in the kinds, to sir laughable
Of course, I changed pavement
Too much worn under the whip to believe
The Black ground is thus
And still as of ego it will be pâmera
By survival, behind me, I would forget
And, I am not any more who I am.

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