Les crises de l'âmeCrisis of soulSuccumbing to the eternal grief of sorrowMangle my plaintive criesWith shattered tormentsI shan't modify your life's faithBanish our endless sadnessCombustion's drying tearsOh God, please try to help meMy soul is lost... disaggregateCrisis of soulWeakness of the braveIn a mortal silenceI emerge beyond my inner mirrorIn a pure wounded harmonyDeath keeps shelter over meMy blind eyes recognizeThe sweetness of the sun lightOnly one hope remainsIn sickness to welcome youCrisis of soulThe all lost souls' dayIn a mortal silenceI emerge beyond my inner mirrorIn a pure wounded harmonyDeath keeps shelter over meCrisis of soulWould-be hypochondreCrisis of soulInfinite tragedyCrisis of soulWould-be hypochondreCrisis of soulAbsolute mockeryLes crises de l'âmeHour of vengeanceArrives on humanity's reignBeneath the lying down corpsesI'm walking on the asphalt-vicotory's streetsMy wish is to liveIn this dream which evades me... intoxicateBut my heart is bleedingFor those comrades who died for our causeLes crises de l'âmeDead star Misanthrope, wandering and dispossed of everything