The Jester Race
Album - 20 marzo 1996 - Debaser id 29245

Tired of dull ages, I walk the same ground,
collecting the tragedies still
Hollow ambitions in a hollow mind
carried my cross to the hill

And how I lust for the dance and the fire
taste of the nectarine sunset to drink
spill me the wind and the fire
to steal of the colors-I'm the moonshield

Shattered hope became my guide
and grief and pain my friends
a brother pact in blood-ink penned
declared my silent end

Naked and dying under worlds of silent stone
reaching for the moonshield that once upon us shone

And how I lust for the dance and the fire
taste of the nectarine sunset to drink
spill me the wind and the fire
to steal of the colors-I'm the moonshield

Mankind - proud conqueror and king
swings its flag of primal glory to the winds
Titans of the power-myth that failed
Neanderthal hunger for the flesh of war so frail

So weak, so hollow-minded
the primat flock responds
the jester race submits

For each day of war is a failure for man,
enslaved in her mordial genes
Illusions bleed from their fetid cores,
bent to their rotten extremes

We, the plague of Terra Firma,
nature's grand and last mistake
plant the poisoned seed of cancer,
set the severed fruits awake
Burning like frozen relics
in god's archaic graveland

Burn the visionaire
Kill the ideaologies
Mankind must die

The doves and the angels return to their graves
with flames on their pestilent wings
while mushroom-clouds haunt their virginwhite skies
to rape their utopian dreams

For each day of war is a failure for man,
enslaved in her mordial genes
Illusions bleed from their fetid cores,
bent to their rotten extremes

Living the last days of evolution's end
from the nest of humanity, the graveland vultures rend

I lie in your soother arms, lord Hypnos
your garmet alive with your song
I lie in your soother arms, lord Hypnos

Steep the spiral to your far abode,
in the wake of slumber, on visions I rode
and fell like history through the chasm of ages
into the charged, forbidden zones

How I have searched
through a million worlds and faces
yet unaware, I have not found
my own true face, traceless and profound

So, find me in these grandiose halls
where long ago summers eternally fall
and tune the strings of truthful longing
to the frozen music of gods

Hypnagonia's lucid horizons
play with the yearning I've quelled
as I strike towrads the Pantheon
and what therein is held

Towards the rich archaic heavens
Towards the lack diorama
You are the artist and the texture
That plays with mantle of the earth

When the bleakest of powders
Lie rooted to the starched stones
And the roots that feed the peaking trees
embrace the sleeping stones

Archaic pearls of sleep and death
The voice of December losing its breath
As the floweryard of white and grey is haunted, is haunted
White as the down of flaking snow
The heroic emblems of life

Green is the colour of my death
As in winter-guise I swoop towards the ground
Green is the landscape of my sorrowfilled passing

Archaic pearls of sleep and death
The voice of December losing its breath
As the floweryard of white and grey is haunted, is haunted
White as the down of flaking snow
The heroic emblems of life

We Are In Flames
Towards the dead archaic heavens
We Are The Mantle and The Texture
The alters, the mantle of the earth

Archaic pearls of sleep and death
The voice of December losing its breath
As the floweryard of white and grey is haunted, is haunted
White as the down of flaking snow
The heroic emblems of life

[Instrumental]