歌词
Merry, you may be.
For I am the flesh in your tounge.
Create to yourself, images of these glass-eyed figures, and expose to me, your skin - whorish as ever.
They speak to me, your pores, your veins, in a rush of melancholy.
In a stream of misantrophy.
Remove the carpet, so
I may be united with the shades of these.
Blind my eyes, still
I will see - presence, visuality.
I grant you my pale hands, still
I will feel - shape, contoures.
Please leave.
In me you wont find any pity, as the dog that howls for the light in my eyes - the stench or your nakedness, no smell for a mourner like me.
So, please leave.
In here you won¥t find any pity.
Tour kisses were as hell itself.
Be silent, for
I am the flesh in your tounge.
Only I can wear vast costumes of time, and still be present. "So, hereby I rape thee."
专辑信息