Поезия

I seek the divine,
God or Satan’s advice
To ask them for answers
In this sickening place

(A place called life, that is)

I’d ask them a question,
Voice my sorrow and pain
Why do I have to continue
To suffer, ache, go insane?

(To which they’ll probably laugh)

To live is to fight
A constant battle with life
To breathe is to struggle
Under hardship’s cold knife

(Let me die, let me die, let me die)

Whatever words of wisdom
They may deem most fit to say
– seek meaning within, your fate is yours to define or something along these lines… –
Will mean nothing; I’ll pray
The only prayer I know

That goes
Let me die, let me die, let me die

шест-шест-пет гниещи душѝ
(ехо, ехото пълзи)
поглъщат светлина под наем
(кости, костите мечтаят)
с усмивка, врязана в плътта
(убий, изяж страха)
мъж без лице, лице без мъж
(кап, кап, ален дъжд)
те чака
(в мрака, в мрака, в мрака)
шест-шест-шест разложени душѝ
(ехо, ехото кърви)
пищят приветствия без дъх
(сълзяща, болна плът)
мъж без лице те чака
(в мрака, в мрака, в мрака)

trapped in my own private darkness
a second skin that’s hard to breech
the flash of light on the horizon
becomes impossible to reach
under the weight of countless sins
I walk my endless lonesome shore
here nothing ends; nothing begins
and nothing matters, not at all
I simply wait for the light to die

Тъмна поезия

The road begins where all else ends.
I don't walk alone. Pain is my guide; madness, my saviour.