The sign of the time carries the echo of dumb words. Has no name, person to wait for him, for nobody to try to understand him. Orphan, abandoned. The sign of the time strikes the evening slowness. Possess a body of steel made to endure. In its feet sleeps a procession of black cats. Hopeless, nor despair. Repeat, make dizzy to forget him never. Without rebites, deceiving the life, the death. Flogging the body. By punishment, accepting the judgment. Stronger than the flashes of lightning which illuminate the sea. Interfering in the curvatures of the wind. Of a languishing, affectionate wave. At the top of a bell tower. In a honeycomb to protect itself. Of fates thrown as strong which inhales his heart of steel. Putting to sleep, waking. Playing the same partition. Never in court of ammunitions. The sign of the time has no sex. Feminine, male. Without complex. Dominate the world. United with him by making the round. Forced and forced. To find a way. Do not get lost. Meet at the right time. The sign of the time possesses an exaggerated power. Nothing can compromise him. Made to be. Without need for conquest. Every day is feast day. Erasing, splitting the moments. Impossible to escape him. Between his claws imprisoned. There will never be a liberation. He will stay there. Without concession. Knowing that we shall listen to him. Slaves condemned for all eternity. Muzzled in a heart of steel.
J'aime ce qui est gothique, ce qui est romantique, je vous présente mes textes et mes photos. I like what is gothic, what is romantic, I present my texts and photos Steffan Urell
