Text: Keeper Of Dreams. Insignificanthill.

People of calamity!
Don't you have some query
in your thousand year old deceieved head?
Haven't you recognized
the disease of our decisions?

Sneaking on the wrong side,
always trusting
who wants to stamp you down!

Attempts of letting the mind flow,
our possibilities are extradited
to a higher power,
what ignores us to the core.

A pathetic way to renew
a mournfully worn-out,
raped, glorious art...


Pursuing the backwardness
it gains its too far.
We're just cowering
in the middle of the mess
crookbacked, with broken arm.

Noone finds me
in the garden of wasted blooming.
Maybe we seem
like an insignificAnthill

What had we done to earn this banishment?
"This nation has already expiated
the past and the future"