The Rhythm of the Damned

Orbits are whispering a long-forgotten motif,
The cosmos breathes in our fragile, brief belief.
A pale performer forgets all his lines,
Head spinning in a waltz of alien designs.
The greasepaint is crumbling like hourglass sand,
Each of us alone in this darkened land.


Dance on the edge, leaving terror behind.

Припев
The rhythm of the damned is the pulse of the frost,
Where deep in the constellations all years are lost.
We are just phantoms on the milky way trail,
Unable to stay, to prevail or to sail.
The rhythm of the damned. The motive of the void.


The velvet abyss swallows up the finale,
He who ran fast lost his way in this valley.
Silver cold gently caresses the mind,
Time flows through fingers, leaving nothing behind.
Idols have crumbled from dead heavens bare,
The stage is forsaken, the director not there.


Sing me of how all our dreams detonate.

Припев
The rhythm of the damned is the pulse of the frost,
Where deep in the constellations all years are lost.
We are just phantoms on the milky way trail,
Unable to stay, to prevail or to sail.
The rhythm of the damned. The motive of the void.


Laugh until the stalls collapse into dust,
In this dimension there's no sense of trust.
Only ecstasy and the gaping dark,
Take the one step, ignite the last spark!



Припев
The rhythm of the damned is the pulse of the frost,
Where deep in the constellations all years are lost.
We are just phantoms on the milky way trail,
Unable to stay, to prevail or to sail.
The rhythm of the damned. The motive of the void.