| The masses assemble
|
| And they’re scenting feast
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| Their panic-sharpened eyes are out for my head
|
| I am their prey, I am left to the mercy of hellhounds
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| Multiple minded beast
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| Out of my rest
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| I was dragged into their fierce company
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| The psyches of hydra have been released unto me
|
| Now
|
| The archaic sleep of the righteous has fallen awake
|
| Bare and naked, they’re gloating over me as my limbs have begun to shake
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| I would wish I was not born
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| To have remained asleep before the blinding of dawn
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| As I enter the world with its faces
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| I feel I am forlorn
|
| Dreaming back before the plunge down into this
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| Hell is not beyond, this shame means what it is
|
| Pull me away from the gaze of the human countenance
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| Of these heads and faces, of their bileful haunting presence
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| Save me from the dread of the disgusting human countenance
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| Of these heads and faces, of their abhorred violent presence
|
| The demon’s laughter drips with scorn
|
| You fear not to die, you regret to be born
|
| Children of fugacity
|
| You don’t fear to die
|
| You regret to be born
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| Batter their faces, so they leave me alone
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| Batter their faces, so they leave me alone
|
| You don’t fear to die
|
| You regret to be born
|
| Silen appears on the face of the other
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| Sardonicly to glance at me, remember the torture
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| Chased through the woods of my alienation
|
| To not see myself in the mirror of alteration
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| Sore is my soul, mourning finitude
|
| Dreaming back to prenatal solitude |