[Lyrics: Ole Alexander Myrholt]
[Music: Tony Eugene Tunheim]
Already wounded... I wonder if I would dare to be stabbed
by the thorns of virtue
Such a sight, petite and illegal... a specimen of beauty in shapeless splendour
Haunted by her image in
blank dismay, I kiss and embrace the dreaming adventure
Of the dainty, delusive doll...
Seeping into the tunnel of
reality...
The savage beast of lust mock-manly rearing its deceitful head
With 666 tattooed upon its bleeding chest
Virtue
seems like a sheer waste of flesh, I smolder like a f*****g cigarette
She bestow me the poet's beauty of phrase, oh, I
ejaculate...
The vortex of addiction is out of square
There are imaginary catchwords everywhere
The vortex of temptation
gently blows
The ego-dolls reap the meadows...
...Of megalomania...
Profoundly wounded... I still wonder during my
frequent strolls to this rendezvous
Such a sight, so pristine... a specimen of beauty in sheer f*****g grace
Haunted by her image,
spread eagle on my bed, I need some pills to kill the pain
I need some pills to absorb the impression of the dainty, delusive
doll
...Sleeping into the coma of reality
The savage beast of lust mock-manly rearing its deceitful head
With 666
tattooed upon its bleeding chest
Virtue seems like a sheer waste of flesh, I smolder like a f*****g cigarette
She bestow me the
poet's beauty of phrase, oh, I ejaculate...