[Music: Henriksson, Sundin]

[Words: Sundin]



Enter Suicidal Angels;



How hungry we've become;

like animals naked in shame

Fed with the hooves of apocalypse

that galloped down, disordered worlds behind



From word to a word I was led to a word

that spanned over cultures in rage

Crimson masses, sleeped in decadence

holding our tongues to the thirsty sun

So, it the future still open?

Then enter, hornet, from our hive-dark hearts

to draw down the end from within



We need not the horns

that emanate from our warty, haunted bodies

severed and numbered they are



Nihilist, Hedon

the priceless art of their lives

Sorrow is a wing laid atop their heads.

skin deep, we carve our immeasurable sorrow

in the fold of your shivering arms



Hedon,

Your chindren wild

and filled with death



# Jupiter in our unforgiving eves:

a pandemonium of bodies and gold

Eager, as a part of your face

and the sickness attached to your skin (stone)

as the wine-rush,

changing from androgynous wombs

to open free the lid of pain #



Hedon,

rinsed in post-human shadows

a monument scorned by the teeth of time

Stale-faced keeper of secrets,

loaded with implosive fire

the whore that carried the apostle

to the mating point on the graves of giants



We look at you, afraid

to see what we really are.