Mānbryne - Pierwszy kamień

Traditional disgrace, hidden remorse. Heritage of craving, inbred shame. Tight leash constrics the
throat. The dance of pitch-black shadows to the rhythm of unconfronted desires. Hounded consciences
yicld their crops. We do not fear the coffin trail nor the dance of the dead. Nor cadaveric poison from
the chalice - the sign of the covenant. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone. Let he who is without
guilt turn his cheek. Legacy of blood, septic plague- the price of redemption. Suppressed fear, hanging rope-
awaiting its turn. The dance of deceptive lights. A corpse and a snake on the stage. As tempting as it is, it is we
who tempt fate. For we do not fear the coffin trail nor the dance of the dead. Nor cadaveric poison from
the chalice-the sign ofthe covenant. Let he who is without sin cast the firststone. Let he who is without guilt
turn his cheek. The first day, the first time. The first false note and a straight neck. The first shadow, the
first tear. Genuinely shed it will fade away. The first stone I cast I shall aim at my own self. For thoughts,
for words, intentions and deeds. For mothers' harlotry and fathers rape. Coagulating for years the shadow
leaks through the cracks in our hearts and flows up to our mouths. To the top, to the top! Insaciable we
are. Driven by faith we lose our breath. We push forward like the Wild Hunt. We hit the wall. The first
day, the first time. The first false note and a straight neck. The first shadow, the first tear. Genuinely shed
it will fade away. The first stone I cast, even a boulder, I shall aim at my own self with pride.