Imploder
From the abysses of Pamir
From the Alps of the Old world,
Some things are clear, some things are not
In the high mountain air I feel bright when I ain't
I see a throned spirit and 24 elderly saints
I feel beyond morals like Frederick,
The moustached whipper
I dream of a heavenly vessel,
Where god would be the skipper
But I'm scared for it darkens, I sense powers come aloose
And I'm lost, I'm of no use, like a coin without a flipper
From here I can see all the good of the world
All the bad of the world, anything of the world
I see seals go abroke, I hear hooves across the skies
I see a black horse, a red one, I see scourge and demise
But what I thought was without
Is now gathering within
It's floating on inwards as the chaos begins
And when I'm swallowed by turmoil,
Outside new life sprouts
The sun's coming back - I fade and go out
Writer/s: Comecon