Firm hands
Visage, chiselled by gods
I pray upon the temple
Intertwined fingers
Sinful embrace
I have longed a touch for Mars
So far, yet he saw the wood,
The hill,
The Temple.

The Mars enraged!
Raging howl of a lone canine
Digging of what the burried desire has for him
Digging, digging
Dig!
The Lumberjack fervently saws the hills
O God! Visage with a burning desire!
Not a tune of emotion compares to what this broken vision has seen
Not a tune of reality passes him.

Unconcious by the dew,
Concious by the sun
Ending the sin of a forbidden bind.