Вершы: Death Ss. Auto Sacramental.

In a tree the branches gows
Thank to the light of the sky
And at the same time,
The roots grows
Thanks to the darkness of the ground

But in the centre of the ground
There is the fruit...

The panic theatre is like a tree
Who grows in the darkness
To meet the bright fruit

The panic theatre has no limits...
The panic theatre is the limit of the limits