1. IF YOUR MUSIC WERE A BLOWJOB, IT WOULDN'T SUCK

Ahh.


2. MELANKOLSKE OPPSTØT

Morn. Morn. Morn. God morn.
“Er det ikke typisk?” “Det var ikke min tur.” “Det måtte jo skje.”

Nei til alt. Det er synd på Sutre.
Melankolske oppstøt gjør en mann til gelé og utsetter det åpenbare.
Se på meg nå. Nå sitter jeg her igjen og syns synd på meg selv. Våkn opp.

Tida går for fort til å kaste bort livet ved å sitte på ræva.
Ta tak nå og gjør det med én gang. Bare gjør det ordentlig.
Tenk om det alltid var sånn at enhver eneste avgjørelse trengte en million gjennomganger.
Vi hadde ikke fått gjort en dritt.

Jeg er så føkkings jævla lei av melankolske oppstøt.


3. FLATULENCE OF EMOTIONS

A lachrymose pressure builds up in my mind’s bowels.
A shadow cast holding back self-justification to hit the ground running.

Flatulence, what you preach. Your rhyme and reason are now deceased.
Your ignorance is at our hands, never to understand.

Omf. Kraft.

Psycho-intestinal acrobatics. Fluttering wings of feelery.
You didn’t ask but I’ll tell anyway.

Storm clouds gather. Collapsing the room with my mood.
Storm clouds gather. Collapsing.
Sorry, did I break wind?


4. BEHIND THE REMAINS

Pang! Precis som en mardröm. Krya på dig. Diablo es mi amigo. Krya på mig.
Caco-daemon seeds. Ring rats and killer bees. No escape. Wake up, repeat, dead.

I’m trapped behind the remains. No escape behind the remains.

Macabre tools torture my brain.
Elefanter på valium, Julius på føkkings speed.

I’m trapped behind the remains. No escape behind the remains.
I’m trapped behind the remains. Wake up, repeat, dead.


5. SELF DEFENESTRATION

Your life is sacrilege. Give up this fight. The doors are closing. Tonight is the night.
Count your blessings. Forget your days. Let others win as teeth sink in.

Self defenestration.

The bells are chiming. We turn to dust. Hope you die soon. Got Necrolust.
Your vision is blurry, yet 20:20 in terms of hindsight. Devoid of insight.

Self defenestration.

Live without subtlety. Exit accordingly. Boss.

Hit the dance floor with some self defenestration.
Bruk det jævla vinduet til noe fornuftig. Self defenestrate, good night.


6. SÅ GJØR VI SÅ NÅR SOLEN SLIKKER VÅRT KJØTT

Så gjør vi så og butikkleiken går. Så gjør vi så som om ingenting har skjedd. Én, to, tre.
Så gjør vi så når vi tjener seige spenn. Så gjør vi så mens døden senkes over landet.

Én, to, tre, og solen går ned. Brenner, det svir. Én, to, tre, fir.
Hvorfor forandre seg hvis ingen andre gjør som meg?

Så gjør vi så når vi gasses ihjel. Så gjør vi så med hodet under vannet. Én, to, tre.
Så gjør vi så når vi selger vår sjel. Så gjør vi så, jeg ser bare rødt.

Så gjør vi så når solen slikker vårt kjøtt.
Så gjør vi så når solen slikker vårt kjøtt kjøtt kjøtt kjøtt kjøtt kjøtt
kjøtt kjøtt kjøtt kjøtt kjøtt kjøtt kjøtt. Solen slikker vårt kjøtt. Så gjør vi så.


7. CAROLA (ENGULFED BY STORMWINDS OF DEATH)

Carola, we hear you calling, riding on stormwinds at night.
Me and the boys are chanting and we just can’t find the sound.

(Obfuscated Nile-like chanting).

Just a few more hours and we promise to summon you.
Carola, we hear thy bidding, but Carola what can we do?
Jippi. Yeah. Ih. Ih. Ih. Ih.


8. THE NIGHT IS YOUNG IS YOUNG AND WE'RE ALL OUT OF NEKRO

Hør på meg, this will not stand. Nekro’s fest got out of hand.
Er det kukk eller er det kniv? Nekro føkker med ditt liv.

The night is young and we are all out of Nekro.

Sons of mothers, row.
We need to head down that river without knowing what awaits around the bend.
We need to row like there is no tomorrow.
Saft. Ja.

The night is young and we are all out of Nekro.

Sons of mothers, row.
We need to head down that river without knowing what awaits around the bend.
We need to row like there is no tomorrow.

Prøvde å gå hjem. Fikk det ikke til. Nekro gjør meg slem. Får det som hun vil.


9. THE OLD MAN AND THE INTERNET

Hark. Abhorrent beast. Like a nightmarish, stormful sea.
How might one wield this slithering, slithering snake?
Akin to a boat, axe or pen? In hushed tones spoken of, instrument of eternal wisdom.

Reveal thyself, lustful whore. Phew. Offering unto us the fall of man. Ih.

What godlessness, its magnitude and vastness overwhelming. Ahh.

I shall not partake in this blasphemy. Alas, what doth my eye spy?
Soft little furry things that battle stumblingly with childish glee. Let feline gayness ensue.


10. RUN BURN MOVE DIE

Bakst. Defecated into existence. Come of age at gunpoint.
Where do you even find your persistence? Bite your tongue, build your strength.

Run, burn. Suffer the children. Move, die. This land is a tomb.
Run, burn. With a will to withstand them. Move, die. Be a thorn in their eye.

Speck of dust in the annals of history. The outcome’s either somber or bleak.
If you run then you’ll burn. If you don’t move, you’ll die.

Run, burn. Suffer the children. Move, die. This land is a tomb.
Run, burn. With a will to withstand them. Move, die. Be a thorn in their eye.


11. HALLWAY TO HELL

Doors are closing, noose is tightening. Don’t tell me, I know I am failing.
The hallway to hell is lined with doors leading to more hallways and
doors leading to doors leading to doors leading to emo.

Please stop looking at me like that. I know I am not solving the task at hand.
Please don’t tell me how to live my life. You don’t know how it is to be a teen. Hopp.

The hallway to hell is lined with doors leading to the misty moors.
Step on in and start sinking, I bet you I will even fail at that.
You know why? Because I’m a teen.

Rivers run red with the blood of the fjortis.


12. CUNTS OF LULU

Dopamine of ignorance. Selling fake tits and tolerance.
Shut up, I’m meditating. Now I’m headless, need more education.

Jag är ett bord. Jag är ett bord.
Enemies of quality - face the thing that should not be.

Jag är ett bord. Cunts of Lulu.
Jag är ett bord. Cunts of Lulu.
Jag är ett bord. Call of Khtulu.
Jag är ett bord.

Laat maar, ik verhuis naar het bos.


13. JEG SKAL LAGE DRAKT AV DEG

Ok, greit så er du et enkelt bytte, men jeg har finni en plass hvor du kan være til nytte.
Finne fram saksa og fyre opp maskina. Jeg kommer til å se ut som en ekte ballerina.

Jeg skal lage drakt av deg.

Sprette opp buken og strekke ytterhuden. Kritte opp formen, passe på å sy inn kanten.
Klippe vekk huet, tråkle og leve i nuet. Legge opp i beina, ta inn litt i livet.

Sjekke mål, tråd og nål, overlock, kjedesøm, glidelås, knapphull, kantebånd, feste tyll, skulderputer og paljetter, strass på knæra, lakk på tæra. Fint.

Nå har jeg lagd drakt av deg. Knapp.


14. RECTAL DARK AGES

These are the rectal dark ages where we nullify what you’ve achieved in life.
This is the decomposition show. We will be here to the very last blow.

Tick tock here it comes. Confidence lost and won. A confusing game. No more powers to tame.

These are the rectal dark ages where we nullify what you’ve achieved in life.
This is the decomposition show. We will be here to the very last blow.

Balding spots like an uncrowded plaza.
Wedged in between loss and ascension like a wall in Gaza.

Life is a recalcitrant affair. Give it up, give it up, give it up.
For this pointless testament. Give it up, give it up, give it.
Rectal dark ages.

These are rectal dark ages where we nullify you’ve achieved in life.
This is decomposition show. We will be here to the very last blow.


15. THE DYING EGG (FØRTI ÅR RETT I DASS)

Så mange hadde jeg. Så mange kasta jeg bort. Så mange har jeg igjen.
Så mange hadde jeg. Behold seasons change within my bone cave.

Egg. The manna of the young egg. The slime of the ripening egg.
The dust of the decomposed egg.

Will I stand by my right to defy the stream of eggs
trickling through et timeglass jeg har fått i gave?
Heisann. Ih.

Egg. The manna of the young egg. The slime of the ripening egg.
The dust of the decomposed egg. The dying egg.


16. CRYING ON THE OUTSIDE, LIVING ON THE INSIDE

Du går fram til mi inste grind, men du slipper ikke ind.
Du må bli på utsida og se meg være anti-glad.

Her inne er det levefest - den greia jeg kan aller best.

Du går fram til mi inste grind, men du slipper ikke ind.
Du må bli på utsida og se meg være anti-glad.

Crying on the outside, living on the inside.
Morning, noon and midnight. Crying ‘till the dawn.

Resurrected by attention. Fueled by joyful moments gone.
I will remember them. Topp. Where are you?