Lay your head down to rock,
Here comes the man who came to denounce god!
Lest the troden snow melts, his feet are cold,
His cradle, barren mountain, whence he comes,
Left no footprints of weight of his soul.
He came, parched of sorrow, filled to brim
With a reason of to-morrow,
He came to tell, what he saw,
Not to preach, nor speak, nor squall,
He wissed a dark in our reason,
Seeing there's no need for a candlelight hereon,
Seeing that man hunts his shadow,
And therein grows.
Whereof this man of old heart?
Did he confined himself, in what he want?
Seeming foolish to take away what we know of,
Did he showed us, that we are: begining of all?
Or did he came to tell us what we've done?
He told, no he believed in a free world,
No constrictions, no guilt, for we are all,
He thrusted his heart to open mind,
To free a man from his guilt, that traps our souls,
Alas, human, all too human
When he saw no reason for God,
He turned to body, as his throne.
Alas poor man, nay be scorned
When thy totem got torn, by the sickness of name untold,
Thou lean to a part of soul you could understand,
To clean thyself, or fought a pest, nevertheless,
You borrowed a strenght from outer world,
You percievest as your own.
The Will to conquer,
The Will to thrive,
The Will to last upon all.
Did you thought you were right?
Did you thought man made all,
You who reevaluated good and evil,
And thought that man is beyond this all?
Yet, the wanderer is born.
Lomas untold, he chased the summer,
Strived for air, yet the nostrils tremble and full of hate
Because the wound, he fought with
Became a pest, that crawled through him.
Here comes the man who came to denounce god!
Lest the troden snow melts, his feet are cold,
His cradle, barren mountain, whence he comes,
Left no footprints of weight of his soul.
He came, parched of sorrow, filled to brim
With a reason of to-morrow,
He came to tell, what he saw,
Not to preach, nor speak, nor squall,
He wissed a dark in our reason,
Seeing there's no need for a candlelight hereon,
Seeing that man hunts his shadow,
And therein grows.
Whereof this man of old heart?
Did he confined himself, in what he want?
Seeming foolish to take away what we know of,
Did he showed us, that we are: begining of all?
Or did he came to tell us what we've done?
He told, no he believed in a free world,
No constrictions, no guilt, for we are all,
He thrusted his heart to open mind,
To free a man from his guilt, that traps our souls,
Alas, human, all too human
When he saw no reason for God,
He turned to body, as his throne.
Alas poor man, nay be scorned
When thy totem got torn, by the sickness of name untold,
Thou lean to a part of soul you could understand,
To clean thyself, or fought a pest, nevertheless,
You borrowed a strenght from outer world,
You percievest as your own.
The Will to conquer,
The Will to thrive,
The Will to last upon all.
Did you thought you were right?
Did you thought man made all,
You who reevaluated good and evil,
And thought that man is beyond this all?
Yet, the wanderer is born.
Lomas untold, he chased the summer,
Strived for air, yet the nostrils tremble and full of hate
Because the wound, he fought with
Became a pest, that crawled through him.