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Refusing to see all of those infected minds

Just to feel better in your own veins

Asking yourself why and how to share all those visions

And more this nightmares of that lost humanity

Closed recipient filled of ominous spikes



Don't enter my private desires

Bad habits are ruling forever

Pushing the door of a closed reality

For the science or any other learning



Metaphor of colors

Blood red black

Altar of flesh

Razor's cuts macabre breath of creation

Remembering old deception



Censored!

Project!

Censored!

Project!



The wounds created by the flesh

Seem to be occulted by all of us

Metaphor of colors

Blood red black

Altar of flesh razor's cuts

Closed recipient filled of ominous spikes



Censored!

Project!

Censored!

Project!



Little by little truth's blood runs among us as an empty river

I'm like you making the black side

To reason and to kill the ideal lineage