Sing now, for years I've given
To a prophetless religion
Of "loss" of "love" and sickening
Wretched abuse of misery.
-
God of the heartache,
Won't you hear my overture?
Torment has become my heart,
Existence be my pain!
Create a wandering wonder,
Of sounds and intricacies,
Turned to ignorant folly,
All logic holds dismembered seas.
Creature inside me,
Won't you rip out my heartsrings?
Boil them in bilgewater,
And finally free me?
To a world so defiled,
Won't we pray for another plague?
Irradicate the "innocent"
And self-hallowed in their name.
Longing and lost entrails,
Of a muddied buried tribe,
The body seeks its insides,
The backbone it can't find.
Fretfull and apparent
That love lost is better found,
Then dragging forth in sulfurous folly,
And losing touch with all sound.
Run, Charlatan, Run,
Your mistakes will claim your fret,
In the ending, fun at last,
I'll massacre you yet.
Overture of Torment,
The only thing I hear,
All Is Lost In Our Sad Lives,
I Will Feed On Their Veril Fear.