Ingenium (PL) : We Sleep in Cocoons

Death Metal / Poland
(2002 - Self-Produced)
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And like larves in cocoons, We sleep, oversleep ...await, We arise in a hermetic lethargy As sequent millenia pass we hibernate. And all the time We watch your civilization fall... Your suns just immitate the bloom (Sensation...Inanimate winter... Desolation...Spring won't come) Spring won't come, we bring you the snow, Sexless seasons to make you become extinct (Summers died) ... Perhaps we are the flowers that cease Blooming to fast, but we won't give up Until you cease to exist ... And maybe we've learnt to ignore Your appearance being always isolated, I suppose we've just disjoined Our different disconnected ways of perception, Choosing to see only what we wanted to see. Seeing only what we chose... (And) You also slept, overslept, awaited, Like larves in cocoons... While our suns were shining you Arose in the lightproof slumber, And as sequent millenia pass We all hibernate


(Where is here?) In these four walls solitude has devalued (Ordinary secrecy of feeling can't Heal any more...) In these four walls only silence Can dwell now... can arise (Ordinary peace brings no relief) ...You are not here, there or anywhere Still I inhale... the same narcotic air Enlivening oxygen burns Even the silence hides deeper inside me You are not here to confirm My weakening existence You cannot even give me quietus (I just have to watch this place Through the bares of my own hands) ...And it's me who's dwelt In your absence The immitation of being so active But I'm paralysed in this monotony Of chaos, and even the silence Hides deeper into me (Flowers wither mutilated with The tint of bloom, Mothers bear the seed of collapse, And new life comes already Dying, The progeny of misused generations, All of us are the hybrids That nourish the hybrid Children still unborn ... And perhaps we are aware, Perhaps we care, But there's nothing we can do, We die when we begin to bloom) To these four walls I've confined My comfortable freedom The beautiful flight of burning Paper doves You cannot exist as any entity In such supreme equilibrium


Once a little girl toyed with the dolls She named them Hurt and healed 'Cause she was their mother. But someday when the dolls were talking They realized "It can't be like this" They took the knives from the kitchen (Secretly of course) And while the little girl was serving the supper They unceasingly kept smiling - Knowing what would happen. And so it was... First series hit the belly And all the rest reached the head. The snow fell, the beautiful winter The snow fell, such exquisite winter (The plush was fleeing from her And the dolls had gone somewhere) The snow was falling (The night becoming deeper and deeper still) The eyes of mother were dying

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