On May 19, 2011
When eleventh in its path
One quarter of nothing
In chime of the night
All what is left of the shed tears
And silent cries
For just
I deliver my wing of spring
In sheer of devils eyes
All what is pure
Of the Innocence, Life
Has been lead to spade
Unseen to die
In filth that links
Uncharted places
Of hand and hearth
A sobering night
When eleventh in its path
One quarter of nothing
In chime of the night
From the plate plain in distance
That earthquake-all-sound We are
One is the judge
That puts the Beast
In blood to be drowned
