15 October 2012
The blinding light of wisdom, And the drowning night of age, Flicker, side by side, suspended high, Ascending, tall, the stage.
A foreboding whip of lightning, Crackles from the swirling mist, Touching fingertips together, And diffusing as they kiss.
Every spark amounts to fire, And the fire, to a blaze, And the blaze, a pandemonium, To dance the shifting ways.
Now they're wild and their passion, Is as strong as any lie, And they fuse within each other, As they call their final cry.
Merge • Opuss № I