Horizon of the depth as the fog surrounds my being takes control and slaves my moves Motionless I stare in emtyness as bodies fall and disappear in darkness of my borderland Is this fake, or is this real? Am I sick, or am I cured? Overwhelmed by the dominating density Not a word to break the silence Nothing visible to fear So what can we do ... with my possessive senses? with my borderland? Is this fake, or is this real? Am I sick, or am I cured? Implanted anger rising A decay within my dreams Inner urge to relatiate upon my enemies and friends Weeping gently in this moisture and this quivering inside of me intoxicates my senses Is this ground I stand on holy or is this just my borderland? So what can we do ... with my possessive senses? with my borderland?
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