Music: Henriksson, Johansson, Sundin

Words: Sundin

Tongues, lost in me

yours be the sharp and the vile

Glide neath my skin

storm through my nerves

I bury the normal years

hours in the earth

couldn't exorcise these searing, peaking tongues

Immune you say

yet venom strikes in strangest guises

as the viper in our eyes

Tongue, throat, tongue

slayer of the word and stealer of vision

A monumental reign of terrors

throats slit up to stain the target

We're food for the hounds of trauma,

prey to the crows of stress

No power left to retrieve my stolen language

filtered through the illiterate fingers of death

Flies

let sickness be poured

from the cupped hands of bedlam

On account of their brightness

I made friends with the word and the moon

went with the tide and left for the sound

of dead instruments thrown out of tune

The red square patterns, dragonrise and

evenclaw

decaying from pandemonic symmetry

Let ring

a dissonant note in the music of the spheres

the streak of promise in the nuclear sky

These whipping black tongues

aching to lick me back to life

to inject their thruts within me