Testo 22

The degradation of symbiosis,
archaic resolve,
modern deception
rectified in nothingness
as my hand strikes you down
my right hand shall strike you down
such disgust bathed in blood
you inhale the industrious breath in this pathetic existence called man
if this is life, then what is death?

[Not sung...]
a looking glass view
at the man who dies alone
in his tomb with pure gold