Lyrics: Ole Alexander Myrholt  Music: Tony Eugene Tunheim    Already wounded...I wonder if I would dare to be stabbed by the thorns of virtue  Such a sight, petite and illegal...a specimen of beauty in shapeless splendour  Haunted by her image in blank dismay, I kiss and embrace the dreaming adventure   of the dainty, delusive doll...  Seeping into the tunnel of reality...    The savage beast of lust mock-manly rearing its deceitful head  With 666 tattooed upon its bleeding chest  Virtue seems like a sheer waste of flesh, I smoulder like a fucking cigarette  She bestow me the poet's beauty of phrase, oh, I ejaculate...    The vortex of addiction is out of square  There are imaginary catchwords everywhere  The vortex of temptation gently blows  The ego-dolls reap the meadows...    ...of megalomania...    Profoundly wounded...I still wonder during my frequent strolls to this rendezvous  Such a sight, so pristine...a specimen of beauty in sheer fucking grace  Haunted by her image, spread eagle on my bed, I need some pills to kill the pain  I need some pills to absorb the impression of the dainty, delusive doll    ...sleeping into the coma of reality    The savage beast of lust mock-manly rearing its deceitful head  With 666 tattooed upon its bleeding chest  Virtue seems like a sheer waste of flesh, I smoulder like a fucking cigarette  She bestow me the poet's beauty of phrase, oh, I ejaculate...