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1. |
L'Appel du Vide
01:51
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The throats of the Graces have long been cut
The souls of the Furies have long been bought
Dawn drags the derangement left in their wake
As the mouths start their running, the nausea sets in
The slumber, the smugness, the contentment, the pride
The comfort, the indulgence, sustaining the grind
I am breathing the lies and I am doing the time
But not living life is my biggest crime
So to hell with keeping pace, let the heavens be my ceiling
What you call reclusion, I call it freedom
I am in a heavy leaden sleep and I need to snap out
I long for the void when I am on top of your world
Because where your angels sit enthroned and sing their praising words
My devils lurk and they come out menacing
My indifference chokes me out and leaves everything bereft of meaning
Down on my knees, I wish something were sacred
The life that I live, it was never mine
It is the crystallisation of compromise
The life that I live, is a life in my mind
Safely cowered away from the world without
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2. |
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Each day, I am haunted by the Son of Perdition
I am the bearer of a family curse that has never faded
So I avert my eyes in search of something sacred
I am, I am losing my mind
The thought of your touch makes me petrified
Because of all the flaws and all the sins on your hands
I feel too exposed and wear my clothes to bed
I’ve got madness crawling inside
I’ve got a name on my brow
And I am the talk of the town
I mistake faces for walls to drive my fists in
I see you trying to get a hold of it, but I won’t let you in
With paper and pen to lie about it
Because you are so desperate for me to think and write about it
I devise rituals to keep you at bay
But the craze has settled and it won’t go away
I still snap when I see you pointing at me
I still smile when I hear you squeal
So drop the white dress, name tag and your good intentions
There is no better person to be found in me
I have lost my way but it remains untold
Because I always find myself to be under the rose
With the past and the could have beens
Show me Procrustes’ bed and I am bound to jump in
I have become the everyman
Who has abandoned the life of the free man
And do nothing but boast incessantly of the peace and repose I enjoy in my chains*, shackled
I gave way to the meticulous destruction of my Self
To serve as a thespian in this pointless usefulness
Self-accomplished or not
We are all still just cogs in a machine
*Words humbly borrowed from Jean-Jacques Rousseau
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3. |
Brink
01:07
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I’m on the brink of depression
I’m on the brink of aggression
I’m on the brink of humiliation
But I won’t indulge in self-destruction
Like a seaworthy ship that has set out for shore
But with all of its sails is no match for the storm
And the waves that smash into its bow
Splintering its stem, along with all hope
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4. |
Steppewolf
02:01
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I tear off my mask and expose to the world
Desperately trying to fulfil the becoming of Me
And I can’t find the words to express my struggle
I struggle with myself, even more than the world
I can’t stand banality and despise routine
Don’t bother me with trivialities
Just leave me be
The world has me bound and is rattling my cage
It left me to die all alone with my rage
And I sink my teeth into my own hide
Just to feel something
Just to feel alive
I was born in ‘88
My initials spell a double H
You all think you are so alive
Well, you merely exist
With my razor-sharp views
Just leave me be
I am Steppewolf
Steppewolf, I am.
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5. |
Sleep
02:18
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Nyx lashes and lashes; and keeps me in chains
While her son tries to comfort and keeps my lips doused
In his soothing red wine, applied with a feather
The feather of the phoenix I am yet to become
Because I am burning
When weariness and listlessness prostrate me anew
A restless heart and burning eyes, they both welcome the sun
Morpheus pick me up, I’ll let you take me away
I’m so done with this world, I don’t want to be awake
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6. |
V.
01:17
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I have read the grief of the world in your eyes
But still you manage to bear the most beautiful of smiles
When I am lost inside myself
The light of your harmless face shines on the midnight of my mind
You are the knife I cut myself with
And let the bad pour out
I was desperate for your touch, but my skin let go
Instead I fell into the depths of your infinite wholeness
And I won’t give my heart away anew
Until Death itself wears the face of you
You catch the words that I never speak
And suffer the anger that I cannot but breathe
Even when I am pulling punches you see me get beaten
When I am allowing conventions to render me meek
And for all the wars I fight with my eyes closed
You dress my wounds while silently suffering yours
You have seen the hide I hide under these clothes
But you surmounted your fears and now you refuse to let go
Worldly everything is nothing
Everything is .You. are all
But do you really want to see this anger bled from father to son?
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7. |
Ouroboros
01:23
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The tougher the hand, the stronger the bite
The greater the praise, the fiercer the spite
The lesser the thirst, the bleaker the life
The stronger the love, the deeper the knife
The greater the spirit, the greater the war
The frailer the mind, the farther the shore
The deeper the faith, the thicker the blood
The higher the hope, the deeper the cut
The bleaker the future, the louder the knell
The staler the soul, the closer is hell
“The darker the night, the brighter the stars
The deeper the grief, the closer is God”*
*Words humbly borrowed from Rodion Raskolnikov (Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevksy)
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8. |
Sycophant
02:33
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Self-seeking fawning parasites
Flashing silver tongues and sardonic smiles
Dressing themselves in fine weave and riches
They frightfully conceal the rotten skin they are in
Gaining wealth, forgetting all but self
Faithful devotion to the spirit of the age
And the only things passed on to the grasp of the heir
Are the insolence they breathe and the moniker they bear:
Sycophant
Cut out their silver tongues and give them a heart
Burn the egos that have brought them this far
Teach them compassion and show them regret
Then take it all away
Let them burn in hell
Make sure number one is dressed to the nines
And gather your kin and paint them black as the night
The fainéant flesh enveloping your bones
As horrid testament of your perverted gold
Let them burn in their worldly hell
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LOTUS Antwerp, Belgium
“Chain punk for eggs” from Antwerp, Belgium.
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