1898
At a little room
Between candle light and a bowl of soup

Morgan looks into the mirror
Seeing a fairy spirit of his own
His eyes are like the Atlantic

Upon which a Titan sank a ship
The solid block of ice is just a miles
Thrown away by a prophet and a poet in 1998


A candle, a mirror
And the moment of poet to the nature

Upon which to (what does she say here?)
Numbers are posing to arrows
In front of your fate

And prevent you from playing the actual game

Time is composed of 2 hands

We can move in all directions

Humanity's fate


Here is your room
And within this, your world

Without the hands of a clock
Beyond time


Magic lives and the lots of pleasure
Being a man without a mask


A Titan sank the Titanic
On the chestguard of the Atlantic sea
Futility