08 - Misanthrope - Bonaparte | Текст песни

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• 08 - Misanthrope
• Bonaparte

From the Mount Sinai
Doves are taking flight
Death sends it's messengers
From the shadow's torments

With naked feet
Follow the ascetics path
A hand holding a candle
Singing canticles
I make my sign of the cross
Mourning, rites and sorrow

Enter the purgatory's room
For a last holy sacrement
A mahogany door reflecting the sunset
Bless the dying in a sparkling sky

Contemplation
Dismal meditation
Contemplation
To the walls of lamentations

In the moist alcove
Surrounded by her family
I cannot endure to believe in it
Hitting her breast with my fists
The head facing god
In a neverending scream
The confession must start
I'm tired of seeing her in the throes of death

Contemplation
Dismal meditation
Contemplation
To the walls of lamentations

She's nude and lying down
My muse is sleeping
Beautiful worried angel
Shining and eternal

Shivering at the bell's toll
Serene and ironical
Host, Judas and nail Mary
Miserable absolution

The priest is desirous
To finally end it
His bony face
Enjoys death with a real pleasures

Shivering at the bell's toll
Serene and ironical
Host, Judas and nail Mary
Miserable absolution

The priest is desirous
To finally end it
His bony face
Enjoys death with a real pleasures

From the Mount Sinai
Doves are taking flight
Death sends it's messengers
From the shadow's torments
Ah ah ah...

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