: Pauvre Benoit, rentre chez toi. Rentre chez toi, pauvre Benoit. Bon Dieu, Jesus, vierge Marie, Pitie pour les simples d'esprit. Pauvre Benoit ! Pauvre
: Busted wire and the tattered tongue Songs she wrote but she never sung Quiet eve of another year She'll soon forget Her blackened lungs from the cigarettes
: My head is wrong My thoughts are gone But I hope to find that personality That makes me feel happiness Against the grain Realize your pain But I hope
Tuesday the third I'll call this entry 'Mistake' Cheap imitation My life feels like a fake A people person Some days people annoy me I'm growing edgy
When all is said and all has come undone When the sun, the moon and stars grow dark Before the days of youth are left in vain Before the dust reclaims
Benedictus qui venit nomine domini Hosanna in excelsis Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord Hosanna in the highest
Oh yea, back again Hope you've enjoyed our little excursions, huh Tippin', toein' through the mind of a motherfucker That need's a little fuckin' stompin
Te lo diro proprio ora dolce musica, che fatto hai di me una foglia e percio dico tu sia benedetta, per sempre Devo a te tutta la mia leggerezza e di
Go into the world Showing how much He loves you Walk in the world In merciful ways, He loves you He loves you Emmanuel on earth Yours is the body, the
Y ella es flama que se eleva Y es un pajaro a volar En la noche que se incendia, Estrella de oscuridad Que busca entre la _________ La dulce _________
I am, I am You die, We die Softly spoken, heart caressed Gently touched, - "Stay with me!" Hear my voice - through the night As I read your every word
"Benedicto: May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds
When I look into your eyes I see gods light trying to find me And the troubles of the world Cease to be as I find myself inside of me And when the
With benediction in her eyes, Our dearest gods are not surprised. You better hold your lover down, Tie him to the ground. Whisper "I love you," One
Agonising road to ruin Fright filled roots of soul Iconoclasmic nightmare watching Grief now uncontrolled Uncertain loss, my pain - frustration Now to
Dedicated to Julian May, author of "The Many Coloured Land(The Saga of the Exiles in the Pliocene epoch) The rupture of the brain from flesh, children
Cut, dissected from within Like clockwork run the cells An unearthly silent din A constant toll of bells Mocking laughter evermore No sight of a refrain
Contained in blood scrawl, compiled evil artifacts. Insane instigators of ritualistic pacts. Necronomicon, bestial methods, age old torrid acts. If darker
