| (The mirror is the theatre | 
| Where the autopsy begins) | 
| Please, be so kind to leave this place | 
| None of your kin (d) is wanted here | 
| A dreadful tremor shakes these walls | 
| Your presence vibrates violently | 
| Over many years we’ve built | 
| The utmost fragile atmosphere | 
| We can’t allow the uninvited | 
| Visitor (s) to interfere | 
| The balance here’s most delicate | 
| And our salvation, if you wish | 
| Yes, our existence as a whole | 
| Is depending on this sacred place | 
| A silence, powerful and true | 
| A minimum of what we seek | 
| Pervading everything and all | 
| It can be hered, can be percevied | 
| This silence, you must understand | 
| A quiet state of rest and calm | 
| Is like a temple in itself | 
| Keeps the secluded soul (s) from harm | 
| It’s gentle light is almost dark | 
| A peaceful semble of the tomb | 
| A certain chill’s predominant | 
| As most things here have ceased to move | 
| Our lord is sleeping in his chambers | 
| The centre of our sancutuary | 
| He’s not receiving anyone | 
| He has not seen a soul in years | 
| So long ago our lord’s retired | 
| From the affaires your world to show | 
| We’ve never heared your name before | 
| Our lord’s not well, you have to go | 
| Please, be so kind to leave this here | 
| None of your kin (d) is wanted here | 
| A dreadful termor shakes these walls | 
| Your presence vibrates violently | 
| Please, leave! |