as quiet as the soul of a death darkness my soul stay looking at the miror of you beautyness waiting for something something to make want lo live again as an habitant of that obscure land where no one is different to the other because we all are made of night where no body has a skin color where no body is perfect because no body really exist becausecovered in darkness the only thing tha matter are our eyes windows of our souls and our voice choirs our most forbiden desires but eventhou we stay in there waiting for something to arrive and while that happens we stay as a graveyard... quiet.

Oz...