Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Exquisite Machinery Of Torture, artist - Meshuggah. Date of issue: 04.09.2008
Song language: English
The Exquisite Machinery Of Torture |
| A sustained static gaze, oblivious to surroundings. |
| Empty, strained, unmoving eyes; |
| Inverted, paralyzed |
| A burning mass of emotions denied, enraged by years of silencing. |
| An accumulation of feelings suppressed, returning to devour. |
| Bright rays of chaos, generated by subconsciousness. |
| retribution by own thoughts; |
| twisting the mind into fits |
| Fuelled with pains unveiled. |
| Burning with contamination. |
| Set afire by disowned self-lies; |
| they penetrate the eyes. |
| I… Am I the next? |
| Self inflicted overload. |
| Thoughts returning to think me away. |
| I… Will I be reprieved? |
| or am I just awaiting |
| the sentence of my exquisite, |
| internal machinery of torture |
| The turmoil arises, from the innermost core of denial. |
| Shining streams of putrefaction, reflugent with disease |
| In outward motion to redress the balance by retaliation. |
| A terminal journey to relieve cognition of ability |
| Mind satalite, by rejected senses and emotions. |
| Tearing flames, born in mind; |
| Creations of self deception. |
| Strained, not to lose the grip |
| Humans locked in the new disease. |
| A light by eyes unseen has come to burn us clean. |
| I… Am I the next? |
| Self inflicted overload. |
| Thoughts returning to think me away. |
| I… Will I be reprieved, |
| or am I just awaiting |
| the sentence of my exquisite, |
| internal machinery |
| I sense; |
| The violent facilities |
| Discorporated by the light |
| All my pleas; |
| denied |
| By my psycho-dentical enemy |
| The inner light of me |
| I’m dead |
| my shit slowly dissovates |
| Shadows no longer gifts |
| from this lifeless form |
| that i’ve become |
| Consciousness fails the grip. |
| Substance now decreasing |
| Amorphous. |
| Without shape — I’m vanishing; |
| dematerialized |
| My own corrosive thoughts — Probes armed with acid |
| tools |
| Disintegrated, I’m bleached out of reality |
| Scattered bits internally; |
| My last transparent |
| remains; |
| Floating inanimate objects; |
| Spinning into my soul |
| Defeated by my contents. |
| Tables turned, I’m a thought |
| repressed |
| I’m swallowed into myself. |
| Destination; |
| nothingness |
| I… Am I the next? |
| Self inflicted overload |
| Thoughts returning to think me away |
| I… Will I be reprieved |
| Or am I just awaiting the sentence of my exquisite, |
| internal machinery |
| I… I’ve been the next. |
| My self inflicted overload, |
| My neglected thoughts have thought me undone. |
| I… I was never reprieved |
| Now I know the sentence of my exquisite, |
| internal machinery of torture |