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Cripple Bastards
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Stimmung
Who has decided this way?
I can't scream ... stuck-throat.
A natural image - a stabbing pain in my sad soul.
Two separated warm hands, then a look behind a pane,
then a wet presence on my face,
then the silence of my narcotic world ...
Who has decided this way?
I can't sleep ... I'm so alone.
I visualize your face - and I think that my life's gone.
Firstly I see your tearful eyes then the barred doors of a train
I don't think about suicide - 'coz I know, we'll meet again.
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IN THIS WORLD CAN'T EXIST A GOD.
SPIRITUAL MASOCHISM SLIT THIS THROAT.
IT'S A SORT OF SELF-EXCITEMENT ...
A MACABRE REPERTORY UNDER MY MODEST CLOTHES.
I think about all those days
brushing against my old cicatrixes
I try to go back ... to conventionality.
But I think it's so unfair ... I can't give a fuck.
A bitter shit to swallow, living in costant hate.
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