Licht Erlischt... - No Statures Of Europe

We are on our road to heaven, they said, it is us each a heaven.
It is a place outside the boundaries of borders, quite so, it is their vern death!

Brick on brick, stacking mortals of flesh, melting soulless parts to gods.
The new, stacked from out the abbatoir refuse, devoid of gender, roots, faces...

Then do not hate you, yet then despise your mind,
Then do not hate you, yet then despise your kind!

Then are all over screens and scripture, the colorful faces who did arrive,
Then have a new tongue, aligned, having spit the old ones in the face of their former gods.

Brenda, cursed be these weak times, what have they done to you?

Cursed be the age of the rootless, what have they done to you? Открыть страницу с текстом

I seek the sweet scent of the darkest of leaves,
I seek the amber taste to cure the boldest of grieves,
I seek the faces that know not to break my spirits,
It is here we find ourselves in isolated marble caves.


I got a feeling that we shall own this night shaded in earth tone,

Can you hear the voices of the lost souls?

Can you hear the voices of the lost souls, the voices from the cellar bars?


It is here we bear the knowledge to its ultimate extent,
And for all things new with the greatest clash to end,
For free, at the brink of self-destruction we rot as
Subterranean,..atavistic...conservative...nihilists! Открыть страницу с текстом

Barbarians, fathers, souls, buried, to rot with the flesh, shame, hidden under the finest of threads,
Primates are not in the finest of threads and hate the future.

Launch ships to the sky, paint signs on a cave wall, breed humans from scratch, scare of witches with maple.

Obliterate countries out of sight, or a man with the thrust of a spear, for the joy of spite.

Fight for the last drop of water, or drown in the floods to come, minor variations are slight,
The point is: This earth shall end with us.

Citizen 2.1, has your sense of justice been swept aside, alongside prejudice? Washed down the gutters to the broken children,
Your children, Donor, washed down, chocktails, elixir of the ruined cities, become the marble palace you' ve earned,
Cities, become the tomb you have earned.

Despise the past as a warning for the hairless creature,
The vague, bendable space, grey, bordered by
Corrosive Monuments of failure,
How fast evolution can come to pass!

Make haste not to be overtaken,
By the future turning, nodding its head, asking:
Are not you the wretched, primate?

Remember to vick up the lates disorder,
To match tomorrow, in the finest of threads.
Cram your collared thoughts into commuter trains,
Those empty thoughts,
into where the skulls are membranes. Открыть страницу с текстом

Ender med døden
Dør med enden
Hedengangen

Tidens klokker ringer
Talt er alle dage
Graven døden bringer

Ender med døden
Dør med enden
Hedengangen

Frelst er kun den døde i graven
Min tid kom et liv for sent
Sort omfavnelse af intetheden Открыть страницу с текстом

Civilians ships at Dunkerque, to swallow the thousands, steered under Jericho's sirens up high.

Two dozen nears a passage burning, yet not ouy coal, rebels ofthe wings, bleed and the tide is turning!
Three decades and the extremes are meeting, perilous storms, flaunting banners, flners, lives...

Arnhem, one overpath too far north-east...Alas! News needed over the air.
Stranded at wrong shores of the Rhine, take courage, take others the southbound line.
Where are the men of our time to summon divine winds?
A Judn Type 33, trailing the vapor of a nation...

Cloudedvdans on the isles of no trees,
74 in counting, our last trench warfare beast,
Men of the now, these were dans you fail to see, not one them in vain.

No statues suffer the autumn storms to wither,
Drained away in the rain-sodden soils of our lands,
It is our Europe that falls... Открыть страницу с текстом

Coarse stone walls, hands on a dial, cast iron strike of dawn, it is time in denial.
It is the point of a moment breaking away, it is the point of sobriety breaking the chant...

How transparent a circle for the gods, how inherent a uncle for the gods...

Into the daylight they keep on falling, fed on miles, they keep on crawling,
Fed on gin, fire, disgust, homewards, afield, ablaze...

It was blistering heat and we were roaming,
We are the nights!
With a bottle of gin and thirst unquenchable
For the light...

A stranger in the alley shades,
Another poor soul going nowhere,
A world of filth despised yet promising,
Salvation...

We know not to call us by a name,
Hunting sparks on the ravaged plains,
Sparks to set the cursed minds aflame for now...

Drenched in swear and easy creatures, lust and violence,
Transports reeking of forume, of the night,
Of home... Открыть страницу с текстом

I tried to tell you of life, but those I spoke to where those lurking in the corners of the cellar bar...

I tried to reach out my shivering hand, but I thought not of the greetings, I thought of the grip itself...

I tried to read the heretic words, but those I read were the faces to whom I as my letters seem to mean the world...

I tried to look for a fight, yet what remained were clenched fist and shadows of freign words that made my day...

Like a suitor with too much to spend, bled white by a whore, going by the name of perception.
It was hers, the disease, the gift I now carry, it is bitemarks I bear.

I ventured, I lit out the darkest caves of my mind,
and I bear this knowledge in chains...

And if this godforsaken planet falls,
I would stand observing,
Waiting, pondering, frozen... Открыть страницу с текстом