A Forest Of Stars - Premature Invocation
Letra traducida de A Forest Of Stars - Premature Invocation al idioma
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- Publicado 2024-01-31 00:00:00
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- A Forest Of Stars
- Premature Invocation
- Traducción por: panzas
Premature Invocation
Cleaved of hoof and shorn of mane
You can keep your shrines, no matter shape or size
There's nothing here for me
I'll happily quaff all your spirits
Bleed your coffins dry
Used my nine lives across nine days / nine nights
Now I just wait for the fires
Reduce me back to ashes
Our magic circles don't align
Too much static in our tragedy
Too much standing still
Put out to dry, fell off heaven's window sill
Broke every bone as I tripped through hell
Silent fractures in reality
I'll be laughing while you cry
Nostrils crystalline at the end of the line
Game over for all time
Show me your compassion
I'll give you contempt
Open those hearts to me
I piss on them
I've had all the gods on my waiting list
All too human
They can't see me, I'm never here
I'll nail any apologist to any passing tree
No joy here
Just this hammer
This hammer
This ashtray earth the fully realised
Product of so-called human evolution
Vultures voicing complaint at the state of the carrion
Sunlight filtered through a mire of thought grime
A peek into the void to remind all is nothing
All is nothing
Nothing is all
Same old clichés; same pitiful joke
You want a punchline?
If the sky should crash upon us in a shower of sparks
Our shadows shall be thrown everywhere
Up the walls, across the concrete
Bathing tortured glass ceilings in spastic ichor
Throwing shapes we never dreamt of
Cramped up in the drains; sense of purpose lost in the run-offs
Mingled with just so much effluent in the language of the sewers
Bone and synapse just so much slush
Sluiced by the eternal juicer
Armageddon dancing on top of it all
Azrael creaming off shots of just so much human slurry
Bloody Mary, bloody father, bloody son
With just a hint of bone for crunch
Sitting amongst the coroners in a round tomb
Is not so possible when everything is flat
The earth is flat
But growing slightly fat
On the cooling coagula of mankind's last fart
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