Besedila: Ihsahn. The Pain Is Still Mine.

The word is easy
Dripping sweet and cocky from the tongue
Vaguely describing the taste of blood.

A distant cry arise
From the fathomless well
That is my soul.
I can not hear the words
So I throw my heart in
Like a coin
And wish that it would sink forever.

A purpose, a sacrifice
Or merely temptation?
Is my solitude anything but a perversion
Of my vanity?

I never cared for this weak inclination
This paranoid tendency
To flock.
And in between all the noise
All the guilt
A silence would carry my spirit away
From diminishing obsessions.
Away from fools and poisonous flies.

The birth of a dreamer.

Behold, an angel of vengeance
A lion
A sword of fire
Alas, the burden of my heart
Is violence undone
Pain unfulfilled
Silence.

When I finally cut deep
Into the flesh of guilt
The un-naked body of shame
And the veins of repentance
Open wide
Sending rivers of blood
Into my mouth
The pain is still mine