Wpis z mikrobloga

If the stars fall down on me,

And the sun refuse to shine,

Then may the shackles be undone,

May all the old words, cease to rhyme.

If the skies, turn into stone,

It will matter not at all,

For there is no heaven in the sky,

Hell does not wait for our downfall,


Let the voice of reason shine,

Let the pious vanish for all times,

God's face is, hidden, all