|
Inhale this sweet parfume |
|
Of acid Sulphur |
|
Spit yourdespair |
|
In humiliating joy |
|
Sweat from all your pores |
|
Burnt by the anger |
|
He's in you, he's everywhere |
|
He stabs you where it hurts |
|
He's the creator, the only one |
|
He's back to never leave again |
|
What would the spirit |
|
Be if it could burn? |
|
Evaporating in an |
|
Asphyxiating atmosphere |
|
Polluted by the shockwaves |
|
Of its predecessors |
|
Contaminated by a disease |
|
Which has only just begun |
|
Disappointed, speechless |
|
Copses are falling one by one |
|
A psychic desolation storm is on its way |
|
Deserters are legions, |
|
Digging their graves |
|
Lay down, close your eyes |
|
Sprawl in your insane certainty |
|
You ain't pleading anyone's cause |
|
A few scraps of memories... |
|
Your cosmic rictus greets him |
|
He dominates you with his |
|
Dictorial behaviour |
|
You offer all your light to his darkness |
|
He drowns you in eternal |
|
Sadness and locks you away |
|
What would the soul be if it could shine? |
|
Free from all its virtual sins |
|
Like a flame spreading through a shadowy passage |
|
Lost to his sight of pixelated memories |
