The ceremonial chamber
sounds a hymn of disaster.
Debauchery has befallen
the moon,
its sphere is full of a swarm of paradoxes,
its prophets are singing
apocalyptic lullabies.
Sparkles bouncing off the facades,
the mask is falling,
your light shall soon disappear.
End of the Moon
The ceremonial chamber
sounds a hymn of disaster.
Debauchery has befallen
the moon,
its sphere is full of a swarm of paradoxes,
its prophets are singing
apocalyptic lullabies.
Sparkles bouncing off the facades,
the mask is falling,
your light shall soon disappear.