Hybrid Stigmata - Dimmu Borgir

The apparition of two faces in disgust

Invisible but yet so clear

Reflections seen by a fugitive

Trying to escape the looking glass

Blood runs from open wounds of false flesh

The one in front of the mirror exceeds the image

Eager to leave further but chained still

To crumble into such nothingness

A despairing fate, for your lies

To pretend is the lunatic’s legacy

Privileged to bolt the nails of heresy

Born lifeless into a world of coma

As the chronic sufferer trapped in paradise lost

Missing insinuations of what life was meant to be Angels and demons, a march man’s bewildering hosts

The charlatans and deceivers walk the line in prejudice

The narrow slits the veins in search for the crown

Profound impatience makes the blind struggle in stupidity

The paradox of the daily prayer, diffidence is Confiteor

Phenomena of ironies, cast the litany aside

How intelligible, blessed be the forgetful

Holding the banner high, unrestrained

Slowly abandoning the surface in contempt

Still in costumes to please the ways of living

Witnessing the details of defilement, intoxicating

Make sure to be pleased with the ways of your death

For in days of reckoning and when the twilight torn is ticking

Elysium is halfway and as an answer to the plea

You’re destined to yield fragments of Hell in return

Leave unnoticed with the perfect conscience

With the strength of the spiritual eye

Spirits of the token unchained and free

Recover from the philanthropic macabre frenzy

The pale dove grins, black at heart ready to flee

Demon to some, angel to others