How blind is the one who sees? How dull the one who claims to know? For there is no greater illusion From the concept of self-knowledge How fallen is the one who flies? How weak the strongest one? For there is no returning beyond the point of The involuntary recognition The fear of the will-lessness The searing anchor How small is the greatest one? How profoundly meaningless the most important? For the words hide simply nothing behind them Or do they? How hollow is the happiest one? How ugly the most beautiful? For the child needs a mother And so does the virus its host Surrender, Fall Entwine, Embrace How the rise of coldest depths Brings nothing more than its painful self For in order to bring about the light One must know how to free the spark Is the greatest mystery of all Hidden not within the blinding of a thought But in the trembling sound Of the moving wings of a fly? The fear of the will-lessness The involuntary Recoginiton May the anchors enter Sealing all the doors Keeping them shut Until the very rising of a dawn The assumption of what lies behind the motion of the world? What lies behind the motion of the world? What lies behind the motion? What lies behind? What lies? What? Is the shoreline of all decisions Just a round-trip's starting point And with the ticket of the utter hope He streaches his weak arms towards the unknown At the screen of the future Projected from the memorised past He creates the greatest illusion The feeling of continious existence