Once we´re born in a cold world As a fiction of three gods We are fragile unbeings Shaped with a stigma in our blood As we´ve searched and keep searchin´ For the sense of our lives Strived against our nature With no chance to survive
So deceptive the silence So mendacious is the peace Just a few feathery moments Promised heavenly decease But a small inattention In this unlysian place An insignificant weakness Will push our world to disgrace
Unblessed with love Soon will be dust If we had another minute If we had another day Then we might find there is a way out Or permission to stay We´re a failure of science Figures written in their play A supernatural fiction With imaginary agony
We were born into a feigned world They´ve invented for us Named us IllumiNation T he coronation of gods
Unblessed with love Soon will be dust If we had another minute If we had another day What if we´d find there is no way out Nor permission to stay Unblessed with love
From pseudo-gods They invented our sorrow They invented our tears Maybe out of deadly boredom They are the ghost engineersTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
