| The cellar passage is connected
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| To the instinctive fulcrum of the cross to eleven
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| The lacks of breath chokes the act of praying
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| And there’s no way out from this cursed place
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| Now I know what’s the meaning of the words
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| «To deserve Hell, eternal deserve»
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| Anguish drive me crazy, empty and depress
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| Unknown fear frighten me
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| The one in hell doesn’t speak, it’s a deep prostration state
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| Where emptiness and anguish totally get the upper hand over everything
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| God left this place too, because he renounced to pretend my soul
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| The winged bitch of prostitution wants me to celebrate our marry
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| When I asked to the medium what’s the undead world
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| She enigmatically answered me
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| Telling about my future and my destiny, fear in my head
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| Ready to face the worst things
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| All my worries and troubles were written
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| In this page and recorded in this tape
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| This place gives no space to pray your God
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| Because you’re un-awarded but possessed
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| Fear and anguish flowing along these walls
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| Are much bigger than the usual harmony of the soul
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| I don’t believe to all that poets
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| Preachers and Satanists who talk about hell
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| They describe an estetic
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| Romantic and decadent evil
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| But evil is really not as they say |