Cold trails, long roots
Xen omm
From north
Nemo ante mortem beatus
Nostromo
Siberia
The cradle
Things that made the pain
Wagons
Waves of insanity
Burning black
At the gates
Ten years
The Ground
Sunset of west

Siberia

On my way to Siberia
The train, breathes.
In my fist an iron cross
It bleeds, my scars.

All those eyes, they turn away
Like reading the fate
The darkened sight of endless land
Like a path to howl.

Underneath sweet walls of trust
Covered by words of rust
Twenty thousand breaths away
I see the home of ours
Fall apart to the gates of lost.

On my way to Siberia
I sleep
And the train passes the dark…
I sleep.

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