To the final days of Evangelion

and if she really is what she appears to be,
then not least one of you would face her destiny.
and if she falls, your eve, your only hope,
then no priest can save your home, no pope.

the rest is nothing but collections of a pride.
the proof by which the truth was used to hide.
victorians thou yet dost know by frigid face
shall soon ergreif dich tight by timid grace.

oh do not strive to lend them lives of yours,
they make you pay the price of cumming through the nose.
the lost are not about to lose and less - to pay,
and only if you send them shall i be away.

they run with guns and forked swords in hands.
the fire, the fire of eve embraced these lands.
the battle of human angels sure is lost - not soon
but tempted are to finish this like whimsing goon…

(17 марта 2001, 20:13)
the blue-haired agony and gray-haired man of hers.
their tears became a symbol of a growing loss.
the laced at starry plate are not to yet so far -
those made by lacing stars are breaking through the bar…

not yet! she cries in sudden, sudden grief,
upholding hands, those full of roseful disbelief.
the rays of red, their forked swords, they pierce
the gentle body, this of hers, of griefs…

awakes in blue and green, and lasts, and lasts,
and three of them are now wide at last.
the way is opened, and her husband shall be through,
but - no sooner than they cum by lure…

they"re not, they"re not! he cries at last, not knowing why.
the lava fields do not support his endless, endless cry.
not daemoned yet, not touched, not thrown, not torn!
and turned aside by thorn
your thorn
my thorn…
their thorn……
eve"s thorn………
my eve, my eve, what have you done to them…
my only choice now is to sing their.. final..lest.. an..them…………