The dance is like salt
And full of creations
Of darkness and fear,
That ought to destroy
Like Helen of Troy,
Whom nobody hears.
You listen to Draw
In silence of Aeon.
Its doomsday premiere,
You perish from hoe.
And every of dance step,
The step that you take
Is ultimate flame, like sharpest of stones.
Beethoven lives and expresses the whole
Truth to believe, that the dance will go on.
Cause dances like pain, its the earthquake of soul.
