Paroles Message In A Rifle de Path Of Golconda

Path Of Golconda
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  • Artiste: Path Of Golconda35737
  • Chanson: Message In A Rifle
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Textes et Paroles de Message In A Rifle



Bewildered yet immortal: this vexing urge to kill
Three moons have past but still no chance for psychopaths to rule this thrill
Sensing through a target with stone-cold, poisoned hearts
This sister-snake, born at the stake and left to taint my very arms
(this sister-snake, born at the stake and left to taint my very arms)

"There was a boy that once upon a time
hath breathed these world of sulphur rain and sought to smack all scum divine
And love, a pale reflection, too thin to win or fight
Had no house nor rooms to live save in the walls of homicide"
A monstrous fable crawling to the minds of feeble hope
It's you: the prey and nonetheless the murderer's soul.....

A ruin of Sin
With the innocent caged within
The tumour stirs
In the flesh of fever
Behold
What you see and what our Khaos enfolds

A Message in a Rifle!
Message In A Rifle!

Once enraged and on to slay
There's no regret nor a new day
No smile shall bar my Way of Hate
But mine whereas the word is spread of

Message in a Rifle

...these war orchestra notes
in ghostly swifting tones
Enkindle one, two, three
Desire.....

"Then came the light, celestial and burning
like wilder flourish of horrors still to come-
God whistling for the Wind, now reaps the storm he'd sown
His children fall from Paradise for roaming Babylon
alone."

Stalking beneath
The madness unleashed
Thick shadows cast
before this primrosed path
What suns and moon receal
A reddened snow conceals
And falls like souls from grace
In Cold Catharsis

Bewildered yet immortal: this vexing urge to kill
All moons enhanced but still no chance for psychopaths to rule this thrill
Sensing through a target with stone-cold, poisoned hearts
This sister-snake, born at the stake and left to taint my very arms
Unaware of sorrow, the Nemesis was lit
And burnt a lost tomorrow a grey and hopeless pit

Drift, Drift - and swiftly veil atrocities
Still ill natures will wake to roam

This fable's worth: There IS no remorse!
Cry petrified and still and lo the human overkill-
... and greet the night of god.

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