Behold the fifth quarter A district obscured and forgotten Home of the restless shades A heavy downpour Waters both loathing and revulsion All the strange people who dwell here Human-like phantoms not born of woman They drift through life with no will of their own Animated by an invisible current There is no one alive capable of laughing The innocent times are long time past Walls speak softly through vibration, cracks and smear Old images keep surfacing like ominous sigils Noises and murmurs Withered laments What an unexpected guest This is the way he behaves when he feels at home His book was speaking to me Just as dreams can speak A crown of red wood, the impregnation of souls Words streamed from the unseen mouth Took on life and came towards me Alive yet without echoes I can feel them drifting through me Alive yet without echoes I can feel them drifting through my very soul Darkness has the upper hand A firm grip on every corner, every street Them houses outside Worn stone and dripping wood Emit incoherent howls Nothing but a mere whisper Crosses the threshold of perception.