Hvor sterk er den som. Livet styrer. Den som spinner sin. Egen skjebne. Hvor svak er den som for. Livet taper den som taper for livets vrede. . Hvem er han.
Du sollst von früh bis spät nur schwere Kohlen schippen. Du soll gut funktionieren, beiss Dir auf die Lippen. Du sollst nicht denken, der Erfolg soll Dir schmecken.
Erzähle aus dem Leben. was endete mit Tod. War einst eine helle Flamme. Die verging im Abendrot. Am Tage schien sie helle. erleuchtete mein Herz. Ich trank von ihrer Quelle.
[Words: Rettke/ Music: Rettke, Paeth]. . The whole world is tangled in reins. The horse's running fast, you can't tame it. Vision attack and the devil is hung on it's back.
[Words: Rettke/ Music: Rettke, Paeth]. . Is there anyone when we're dead and gone. Who is leading us up to the light. Taking care for a love to share.
[Words: Rettke]. [Music: Rettke, Paeth, Bilski]. . The time is moving senses. the lights are dimming down. we set this town on fire. it's time to leave it now.
Running across the dark way. Bleeding but still alive. Carry the mark of demon. Suffering through the night. . Is it the end when all is done?. When souls climb in the sky.
[Tim: actually a song from 1992. With new lyrics.]. [Inspired by my distinctive Feeling for equity.]. . [vers:]. you can't beat the rhythm of my heart.
Suctioning out the faecal detritus. Absorbing coproemetic grumes. Picking up excremental samples. Bear the fetor of rectal fumes. . Fragments of alimentary matter.
Consumed cartilage, absorbed mucous membrane. Internal Haemorrhage flowing from your airways. Desperately you gasp - ripping vocal cords. A repulsive sound - crepitating snore.
In the night I returned to the graveyard. I just wanted to make sure he was dead. Prosecuted by neurotic obsessions. Find an answer far beyond the cemetery gates.
Slicing deep into your excoriated abdomen. Slooping out guts when peritoneum is clouen. . Your septic iliac fossa I excavate. Morbid organs I want to extirpate.
Disintering rotting carrion. Posthumous secretions flowing out. Manifested Livor Mortis. Autolisyfied tissues breaking down. . "Exhuming corpses Enshrouded in Putrilage.
Embryonic lesions deformed my face. Eye-socket is empty but my vision remains. Repulsive images I can see with it. Pathological scenes from an internal trip.
What you waiting for. Enemy at my door, what are you waiting for. Demon preacher tracking me, I have no place to run. Enemy in my mind, desperate and sublime.
Born in a city, no more than a wasteland. Flash point, a struggle to the bitter end. Productive life, serenity a god send. Auxiliary, a second class citizen.
Driven to tears while being sucked dry. Beaten down, exploited, left in bits. No hint of self seeking, cold hard facts overlooked. While the ritual of disgust begins.