Do you know what happen when the sun goes down?
Night quietly lays her hands on us.
Red stain of the moon scorches us.
Wild moans and sounds of suffering.
On white shrouds near scarlet gates,
That licking by obedient companions,
Nature spills bloody rivers.
And we dip our fingers in this red goo.
And great flow of unborn children
Erupts outside from sacred depts.
We will wait for good massages
With hope for someone stays.
I want that time goes backwards
To that years of naughty young maiden.
And if tomorrow everything will repeat.
We’ll blame red moons.