[words 4/2-99, music 98]    I'm the scenery of vendetta  Mind and soul  I'm the shapeless victory  Order and suppression    All in the tower of the virgin  Triumphant in a pale gray light  In despire of how to deal with it  A sweet, turbulent intoxication    Rapidly I yearn to bare the mark  In a tragic understatement of the lions force  A tribe who's independence is no longer  Disturbed by the ragged interception of happy thorns    As I face the whispering  I answer to the master  A biochemical trembling  Voices in my head    And thus I appear with wakeful eyes  Trust insight  A tedious dramatic implant  Like swollen iron feeds itself,  Longing for the moon    Unbreakable and unborn  Sifting the contents of the surface  A ceremony of killers  A scorched fucking snale    In postures of gold  That might be recognized  But as long as there are shelters  You'll always find yourself detained    A huge defenseless atmosphere  Wretched and toiled for centuries  Is ever so tender as long as we're alive  For it is with great wealth that I, declare this    Flapping wings, tired monster  Ruthless in folly frames  Attempting gaiety upon sinister forces  All within, we will win...