1. HATHOS

Slice yourself from abdomen to throat and tell your guts they're welcome.


2. IN RITUAL

This skin has become more than callous and it barely portrays the passing of time. A thousand needles may pierce before stimulation, thus making existence quite hollow. As the white clouds play for fun I indulge in my violent mellowness. Where white clouds play for fun time keeps track of me. This skin has become more than callous.


3. THROUGH OUR VAINS

We have effectively created our own nightmare and I taste the sweat within it. Our flesh gently maims through itself and amongst the environs. Embrace our stench. Fondle in our infection. The children are adorned with patience as the imperfection vomit fills their throats. Our filthy innards will be bung dry. They loathe in our flesh emesis. The children slowly erode as our skin fills their throats. They loathe in our flesh emesis.


4. SUICIDE BUCKETS

Now even the guillotine seems appealing
Compared this nightmare of cognitive execution
A conscious evolution is twisting inward and rooting deeper
Are one's innards set for auto-perversion?
The malignant cells are potent and unmerciful
Yet discovered alone
Contaminated pigments remain invisible
While excrutiation is discovered
Ultimately infinite cycles are far too vicious, far too intricate
An alliance is formed on behalf of the capitulation
Inanimate superior, sentient inferior
Alas the concealed infections are spilt
And a dream of death comes true


5. DRIFT

(No lyrics available)


6. BURNING IN FLESH

Black realms surround, engulfing the head. The appendages are adrift from their syndic. Each limb is threaded and wrapped with indulgence. The torso is scraped by the scathing intentions. Bleeding becomes obsession. Blackness becomes the intention. Surpassing every potential, I have digested further. I will drip into infinity. Allow me to drain


7. STRINGS OF INTELLECT

Puppets are at hand. Strings link fingers and souls. The master is intellect. The intellect is erroneous. Headless creatures wander. Headless frames stumble and the puppets bring full circle. We create the metaphysical, we create the clone. The king of intellect threads our strings. We are the headless puppets that connect the full circle. We are the clone of the erroneous. Control to devour and control again. Consume and eliminate to sink the full circle below the surface. The strings are threaded. The heads are transplanted. The intellect is imbedded. We are the clone.


8. DIVINE INCISIONS

(No lyrics available)


9. AN INQUIRY OF THRESHOLDS

By cradling the roots of a frame the perimeter encompasses the depths. The vile hanging limbs within are vices. Hanging limbs within devour, burying the unfeigned faces. Figures bellow while the shadows conceal our imperfection. Grip the acquired nurture yet emanate the instincts still flocking to nature. We paint dead faces.


10. SEROTONIN FEVER

(Instrumental)


11. APOPTOTIC ROT

Behind two eyes during the lower sessions I sank. Dark hole, head first again. Unpleasantly dripping, internally exploding. Feeling the same as usual, I rupture identical. The ugly skies surrounded and laughed, though never like the pretty faces passing in smiles. Ugly skies surround and piss. Senses melt inside pride, melting happily again. Of course hymns will call in nervous measures. Sooner, head first - licking the razors. Quite content among such blood and politely accepting the gift. So ugly skies surround and crush. Then pretty faces fuck in smiles. He[a]re the angels continue to burn.


12. DREAMS OF BRIGHTER COLOR

(No lyrics available)


13. LAKE OF PIGS

The herds are wet with anticipation. Cloned, deformed, perverted or malignant, they are waiting in infuscation. The sects have found formation. Each in and of their own power, they yearn for indefinite boundaries. From every corner and every crevice they will emerge. Innate capabilities formulate fiends. For the slaughter they are eager. Soon the pigs will feast. From every corner and every crevice they will emerge for the final massacre. The pigs will someday be the butchers.


14. UNTITLED

(No lyrics available)