"The love of life has ceased in thee,
Who long hast known this suffering strife;
Then come along to rest with me,
For Death is better now than life."
- Holbein, Dance of Death
Cut up your mind, let the river run dry
Bleed out, the veils and illusions
The sensation of life, diminish in your presence
Bleed out, the blade is a key
Piercing through the naked flesh
Then watching the wounds heal
My scars form a map
Letters in the native tongue of Hell
Where all flesh is soil
Where all and everything
Ceased to rot
It's cold, so cold
I keep my ear to the ground, listening to the cries
Of all generations, slowly passing by.
The truth beyond any language
Is the symbol of death
Beneath your own skin, a goat skin
From the first grave to the last
The tomb is a mirror
And we are all crippled by life
The ethereal paradox
But a cenotaph for broken dreams
Disinterring the last hope
To find a passage through the wound of lies
