next evil

heat/blasts - the town dissipates. they no longer live there. they no longer live anywhere. their life is a work of constant separation. we watch their fall with the same distance in our eyes. incapable to see their horizon. drum guitar drum drum. the same old story. /// my nation moves in a circle. we do not speak any language and our culture is dying away. the villages are full of fallen men and unborn sons. the pockets of time are empty. /// its heart is an empty house no one will ever visit again. /// so raise the torch and create the last pattern.

::: stores you in life :::