My Glassy Shelter (Dirty White) — Ephel Duath

Is it so useless to talk With these still shades? Sometimes it seems that I spy my moves Through the vent of a glass stone.

...But what am I observing? The sandpit I'm digging Doesn't seem deep enough, 'cause the cries of the wounded wave are covering my strains.

But I long for this amorphous embrace To reach close connections with my Ego: This is the spiral...

Is it so useless to talk with these still shades?