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Dark Tranquility The Mind's I Hedon Enter Suicidal Angels; How hungry have we become; Like animals naked in shame Fed with the hooves of apocalypse that galloped down, disordered worlds behind From word to a word I was led to a word that spanned over cultures in rage Crimson masses, steeped in decadence holding our tongues to the thirsty sun So, is the future still open? Then enter, hornet, from our hive-dark hearts to draw down the end from within We need not the horns that emanate from our warty, haunted bodies Nihilist, Hedon the priceless art of their lives Sorrow is a wing laid atop their heads. Skin deep, we carve our immeasurable sorrow in the fold of your shivering arms Hedon, Your children wild and filled with death Jupiter in our unforgiving eyes; a pandemonium of bodies and gold Eager, as a part of your face and the sickness attached to your skin (stone) as the wine-rush, chargin from androgynous wombs to open free the lid of pain Hedon, rinsed in post-human shadows a monument scorned by the teeth of time Stale-faced keeper of secrets, leaded with implosive fire the whore that carried the apostle to the mating point on the graves of giants We look at you, afraid to see what we really are. |
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