I Have A Trend Of My Own.

Everything Comes To An End, Only Objects Are Left To Pine In The Dark.

My Body Gets Weak Without Truth.

What If We All Suddenly Get Carried Away Thinking - Who Will Be Left To Act?

We Can't Feel Anything - All That's Left Inside Us Is Dust.

I Want My Word To Be Up To The Scale Of The Feat Of Arms Performed By The Russian Soldier.