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Dødheimsgard




Music World  →  Lyrics  →  D  →  Dødheimsgard  →  Albums  →  Satanic Art (1998)

Dødheimsgard Album


Satanic Art (1998)
1.
Oneiroscope
2.
3.
4.
The Paramount Empire
5.
Wrapped In Plastic
. . .

Oneiroscope

[No lyrics]

. . .


Confronted with his realm
the executioner who erased his feeble abscess
The fear of fright and a powersource
beyond his common reach
It slayed him self in devotion and resistance
One for each defeat
The image, reflections, casted from him self
The human and his ideal
Blessed by the superior, who faced himself; faced his fear
Ravished his mind in triumphant attack
and came far more closer to his king
In the traces of reality
he returned with the knowledge of
his present being
and what reality brought in the
absence of common sense
Only when his needs are granted
his mind can start to absorb the
traces of reality
Who never knew of and would see as dreams
For somewhere they will fall apart
Sometimes they do
But heals fast so they can fall again
and be disturbed by the faces inside
him self
The ones he fear the most
Did...
A day will come? When Belial get his surprise
and the fool becomes crippled
Reality - larger than mans illusions
or is it me?

. . .


["Symptom" was featured earlier on the Hot records sampler "The Rape of The Holy Trinity"]
[This is a new and better version of the song.]

Wonder do they stride at all
who bore him over her
glistening ground
I wonder, do I sense the breath
of dragons, steering sound
I catch the gust with my hands
like an open bowl
and hope the beast never stills
the wailing of his mould
I wonder, does it pour me something opaque
in mirrormere and grace
this that has lasted for quite some time
will it last throughout all days
The sound turns undressed back to me
like beryls floating in a wide stream
I wonder is this the final chance
to fulfill the golden steem
The sound of finches
ledged to the skin
defy this pledged cry
never has it really leaned to me as
a burden or an obvious lie
I wonder if her silver horns
bestow poison into my chalice
for I feel the stains like I've been
touched, though wounded not from
foreign malice
Be with me and feel with me the
sketch of your enchanting sky
so I can hold you in my arms
tight until the day I die

. . .

The Paramount Empire

[No lyrics]

. . .

Wrapped In Plastic

[No lyrics]

. . .


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