P.Righini, 2025
The wanderer walks, no name, no face, Blood on his hands he can’t erase. Nails are stained, the thrill is near, Killing tastes sweet, it kills the fear.
The birth of God, desire and sin, No way out, no way in. The birth of God, silence and blood, Lost in the road, drowned in the flood.
Crows are crying, the sun turns black, Nature whispers, there’s no way back. The path is closed, a door’s undone, He steps inside — a life begun.
The birth of God, desire and sin, No way out, no way in. The birth of God, silence and blood, Lost in the road, drowned in the flood.