There are lands unknown,
Places many wonder about.
In dark halls we deny we have,
There are kept the machines
That eternally run.
When all is sleep,
Theirs is the endless work.
Although their guards are on constant watch.
The precision of the production is questionable.
When a machine wears out
Hardly anyone pays attention.
In the concealed towns of the mind
Vulnerable faculties are at work.
Trezvennost II 