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Tytuł: Symphonaire infernus et spera empyrium

  • Wykonawca: My Dying Bride
  • Wy¶wietleń: 227

  
   The destroying genius of idols
  Will shroud the world with utter lies
  Dance the cobbles, his abode named Dis
  Portraits have spoken their masters distress
  Icons with kisses, tell me who have seen this
  Failing Enochian tapestries
  Depict the prince of fallen virtues
  In almost poetic rhapsody
  Masterbate to the sound of the knell
  The Patchetic stench of dying children
  Perhaps our fall is certain
  Limbs entwined in absolute contoursion
  
  Please put off your veil
  Your heart is blameless
  And I shudder for knowing it
  
  A hot May makes a fat churchyard
  And Lychfowel breed in chaotic frenzy
  Her cry was the saddest of all earths sounds
  Trauma bites hard the hearts of Kin
  Swept away by a moments sadness
  They say rage is a brief madness
  By way of the beloveds farewell
  Give back to nature what we first did take
  And monuments would slowly fill
  The agendas' of Kings and Queens
  In silence our faces bleed
  The holy voice torn away by the gale
  
  Make yourself all honey and the flies will devour you
  
  Love is a game where both players cheat
  Gone is the tale of Hero and Leander
  Women are angels yet wedlock's the devil
  To have and to hold but death no longer parts
  Harlots and sluts, whores of our world
  Expose their stinking vaginas'
  Many who have no will of their own
  Hold their souls towards the sinister bloom
  Are you rich oh lord of vanity
  As you peddle your wears of cruelty
  Dressed up so you look the part
  So blind, it's ignorance you wear
  
  Quite brutal beyond belief
  Sores that weep their septic tears
  Dragged out through war torn lifetimes
  And death shall feast on us all
  The mills of God grind slowly
  The adorable light of that which is most divine
  
  The fascination of her shape
  With mansions of awe and splendour
  Elegant in simplicity
  So at last your faith rewards you
  Through fields enriched with pastel shade
  And fragrant lavenders soft to smell
  You laugh and drink wine of no great age
  Nature does scent the farthest shores
  Face to face your angelic host
  All hopes in you imperishably kept
  Is God your wish and all your dreams
  If your body is frail then yes by all means
  
  Make yourself all honey and the flies will devour you