Ténèbres - Slow

Written by：Lore Boeykens/Dèhà

This is not meant to bring you joy

This is not meant to give you any solace

This is the cold

Ugly truth of what happens when we put off our rose tinted glasses

Or when they are violently ripped off our noses

May you find peace with this state of mind one day

May you embrace this pain and allow it to make you stronger

May this teach you how to turn this poison into an antidote

Cold cuts through my fingers

As I drag them over the surface

Punish them as I

Disturb the still waters

With one light touch I

Wrinkle all existence

Distort all future

Destroy all quiet

Send waves of confusion

Through these waters

Of life

Even the gentlest stroke

Causes harm

There's thunder afar

What have I become