Autobiography iii. Nikolas Verhal

from by The Enigma Code

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lyrics

Ceremony, lend your hands to death.
A jovial creation from the bones of a prison cell.
Survival on a guardian's, survival on a guardian's,
survival on a guardian's breath.
Welcoming life to a funeral, welcoming life to a funeral
welcoming life to a funeral's bell.

Beneath the surface of this mask
eating away my days.
Is the proud prudent son
of famine and reprobate.
Of famine and reprobate.

You are the organic source of my hopes and dreams.
Your blood will make my dinner course while I sell the meat.
You are the organic source of my hopes and dreams.
Your blood will make my dinner course while I sell the meat.

Seconds spent in calmer moments foster the
insatiable rage.
Picking me apart like butterfly wings.
Sanity is being split at the seams.
Closer and closer, the abyss lengthens its wicked gleam.

I never understood why, why they're all alive.
Lips spread out like daises over dermal fields, serene.
But there's still a torn out page in history
that washed up to be like every fictional fantasy
locked deep in an empty soul like me.

Run for dreams, catch only air.
Reach out to the clouds while the flowers disappear.
Swelling up the landscape.
Eviscerating the seeds I've sown.

Follow meadows of demented echoes.
Walk among the swollen petals.
Dead elder flowers grow where loneliness echoes.
Where loneliness echoes.

There is a place in comatose where sparks strike like lightning
across the starless night.
It's the only blotch of white.
It's the only pitiful spite.

No matter how close this pale ghost comes and goes.
Laughing at the frantic.
Melting away like snow in snatching hands.

Watching existence from Hell's distance.
Never a finish to this business.
The curse we wave upon your name
dresses us like princes.
Dresses us like princes.

Lifted, you have become, my son.
Our rage seeps through our flesh.
Your hand is mine to count the crows circling your soul
You're running out of time.

Lay your weary head inside this bed,
for it's the one that will claim your life.

Run for dreams, catch only air.
Reach out to the clouds while the flowers disappear.

Follow meadows of demented echoes
Follow meadows of demented echoes.
Walk among the swollen petals
Walk among the swollen petals.

Watching existence from Hell.

Can you hear me, feel me?
Can you see (can you see) my face in yours, Nikolas?

Spawned to walk six feet alone.
Peeling out the walls of every home.
A screaming banshee flocking among
the shrieks of wolves.
Flooding bodies in every room.

Flooding bodies (flooding bodies).
Flooding bodies (flooding bodies).
Flooding bodies (flooding bodies).

Rectify the errors of your name.
Become the one your fears hath made.

I can quell the screeches of your bleeding,
but never the victim inside of me.
Wash your tears with a maple blade and
strike the fire against your pain.
I am a wasteland constructed of disdain.
I am the virus composing the lymphocytes of shame.

The cancer that you taste in the pouring rain.
The lies that rot through your teeth and into the chains.
Clasped on the folding limbs of sin.

I want to be born again.
I want to be born again.
I want to be born again.
I want to be born again.
I want to be born again.

I want to kill, reclaim.
Purge those souls that fled my grasp
for all those years.
You'll feel my pain, you'll taste my rain.
You can't escape the one who pursues even me.
There's no end to this apathetic madness
just another existence
that has learned to breathe deep inside of me.
I want to burn it all and watch the embers take me
Than live another existence.
In these poisoned folds of sin.

I want to be born again.

credits

from Vices, released March 24, 2016

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