[Music:Fredrik Thordendal, Tomas Haake; Lyric:Tomas Haake]
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
[solo]
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
s**t 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
