(Inspiriert durch Shakespeare's Sonnet No. 65)
How striking comes this fearful meditation
When even Black Inck's ever been time's slave?
It rages inside the poet's inspiration
Whatever on this planet could be safe?
The lines made up they fade, become uncertain
The melody that struck the hearts gets cold
The moment's magic's lost behind the curtain
So what, if not Black Inck, 's the poet's gold?
The song dies as the band's unmotivated
The rolling days dry up their dreams so fast
The power of the word is overrated
So face that beauty isn't made to last
And once the poet's heart will yet be rotten
I trust in wind's grace to remember me
When once the poet has been long forgotten
And ink and paper washed out to the sea
But though I know mortality won't matter
As long as poet's minds will still be cut
I know that in their veins I'll live forever
For ink has ever been the poet's blood
How striking comes this fearful meditation
When even Black Inck's ever been time's slave?
It rages inside the poet's inspiration
Whatever on this planet could be safe?
The lines made up they fade, become uncertain
The melody that struck the hearts gets cold
The moment's magic's lost behind the curtain
So what, if not Black Inck, 's the poet's gold?
The song dies as the band's unmotivated
The rolling days dry up their dreams so fast
The power of the word is overrated
So face that beauty isn't made to last
And once the poet's heart will yet be rotten
I trust in wind's grace to remember me
When once the poet has been long forgotten
And ink and paper washed out to the sea
But though I know mortality won't matter
As long as poet's minds will still be cut
I know that in their veins I'll live forever
For ink has ever been the poet's blood