В колонках играет - Across the Bridge

"Not Dead But Dying

Take my hand ... in Theatre of Seven Hells;
a ferry that bowed its wings ... -
we call her: 'Moon by Day'.

Life, a book ...-
in a painfull tonque that hurts our ears;
flowers of the end: their seed shall grow.

Your breath ... shall be my coat,
the underworld is, oh, so cold.
The dead don't feel the chill ... -
but, please, hold me warm.
The awful night has gone; what lay before ... -
we can't remember.

Even Morpheus has drowned
in the lament of his own shadow."