Beyond the land of dreams and nightmares, There is a place where ideas go to die. And in that ever-hungry darkness, There is a beast that dwells in death, but will not die.
Its shaggy mane is coarse and black, It’s mouth turns up in twisted leer, Its goat-like features, flawed and cracked, Its cruel three horns the fount of fear.
That creature, foul of cloven hoof, can never be outrun; Lurking in the nameless dark – that’s the Tricorn, son.
In forgotten aeons when the world was young, The Tricorn emerged from the void full grown. A demon-god, from chaos flung, Its heart was dead, and its horns cold bone.
It lives in its land, dead yet dreaming, Awaiting the curious and the brave, It conquers death and knows no meaning, Its eyes are open and its mind is crazed.
And when you hear its noiseless bleat, and it leaves your mind undone, Lurking in the nameless dark – that’s the Tricorn son.
The Tricorn tore the fabric of reality, It killed the gods and toppled the sun. It built a twisted image of its depravity, And sat in Sodom as its will was done.
It birthed the world and all we see, An idiot god, mad with senseless fury, It raped the apes, chained mind to flesh, And in doing so, it formed humanity.
Gibbering madly, at the dawn of time, when even the stars were young, Lurking in the nameless dark – that’s the Tricorn son.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
