Thoughts are spinning their inescapable threads
|
transforming us cruelly into marionettes.
|
Everything I feel is pain
|
and the Devil holds us in his hands.
|
Buried desperately in my chest
|
a rose for myself and a rose for the dead.
|
A serenade of tears, lifelessly
|
we feel the beat, though no orchestra is there to be seen...
|
I am you, I am you - you are me,
|
what I am, what are you - who are we ?
|
What is truth and what is lie,
|
who are you and what am I?
|
In a cradle of mercy we are sleeping
|
the half-sleep of oblivion.
|
No holy water could wash away our faults
|
nor do benediction purify our unclean souls.
|
The gates remain locked
|
for the wingless children of wrath,
|
so long ago splintered and trodden down
|
us children of glass...
|
Please, my Lord, extinguish the light,
|
the illumination hurts my eyes.
|
My choice was wrong, so wrong:
|
truly everything is pain...
|
We are crying with wolves
|
like stone we are sleeping with the dead;
|
soon we'll be gone and you're left
|
the instrument...
|
|
-----------------
|
The Devil's Instrument
|
| Sopor Aeternus |
