Lantlôs : Neon

Avantgardiste Black / Germany
(2010 - Lupus Lounge / Prophecy Productions)
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Тексты песен


The grey wind covered the last windows with dust
Where are all the souls ?
buried and expelled
degenerated to ghostlike shells

You can see them behind weak backs
Bended, their favs buried in their hands,
correded by poison, paralysed by ether
Fading Figures.

"Where is all the yearning in their leaden favs ?
They hunted it down and killed it
Drowned in wine adn estrranged via syrings
set into whores and paid with cold."

Disembodied, gasping, I trembled
In the flush of a thousand cold lights,
through this night of neon
That I'll never belong to.


I learned how it is to feel alive...
In dim chambers
A wet body, closeness.
Warm things, tousled hair.
Loving hands,
Caring words.
Our footsteps in the snow.

I know how it is to feel alive...

Hollow wishes
concrete soul.
Sensation of luminescence
artificial and cold.

The empty shining
is my light.
The cold air in my lungs.
is my dirty warmth

Someone is the escape.
You were mine.


Sirens of souls
howling and piercing the night.
These are streets,
clinic fingertips,
Sex and violence.

A naked soul,
smashed apart,
yearning, searching, longing.
These are the streets,
I call my home.

A light pressure,
reality dissolves,
I am shattered
light, streams, energy
My ground is shifting.
A mosaic of senses.

Matter is running through my fingers,
Time is laughing at me.
This is the world.
Pulse. Surreal.


Un ciel livide
Sous lequel je déambule
Et flotte comme un fantôme,
Entre les visages de marbre
Et les carapaces vides ;
Ma perception de la réalité
Une vision altérée de somnambule.

Il fait froid,
La neige malvenue tombe
En de particules impalpables.
Elle vient mourir sur mes vêtements
Comme sur une peau nue.
Autour de moi tout n'est que noir et blanc.

Je tourbillonne autour de mon axe
Et j'ai peur de m'arrêter
Réalisant la distance qui nous sépare.

Tout me paraît si lointain,
Ceci n'est pas ma vie mais le film de ma vie.
Cette sensation m'échappe
Est-ce juste un sentiment,
La réalité ne serait-elle pas ce sentiment ?

Alors qui suis-je ?
Qui es-tu,
et où sommes nous ?


Conscious coma.
Life is grey visions,
barely perceptible.

Waiting for dissolution
Clinic exitus.
Physical decay.

Like a thousand crystals
running through my veins
the poison benumbs.

On the toilet floor I lie.
Reduced to filth and stench.
Home. Warmth. Life.

Seconds separate me from the outer world.
Conscious coma.
My delightful decay.



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