Whoracle
1. Jotun
music: Strömblad, Gelotte
I often dream of huge numb buildings
jet-black sinister architecture
being installed when nobody sees
Their appearance so sudden
that few would take notice
And when I wake up
I imagine being crushed by one
imagining its weight its silence
and the absence of excuses for a havoced life
and the privilege of a 22-kilometre tombstone
Jotun
A body of black
that carried no reflection
defying its own room
un-earthly eggs of decreation
There would be colonies
mushroom-scattered forever out of context
rising spores from a dying world
to pollute to chase away what`s left
Sun-white pulverised desert stone
and serpentine lizard mouths
Pales away the pyramids
rewriting 4500 years of history
raping the statue of liberty
outplays the acropolis
inverting the fjords
invades the n y skyline to
dream its own existence in one single final word
Jotun
Can we identify them
as the flint buried in our reptile skulls
or the time-bomb coded in our dna
2. Food for the Gods
music: Ljungström, Gelotte, Strömblad
Shame marries the guilt
introduces itself to the
concept of total loneliness
Sensations repressed
make friends with
Suicidia, and
and here the leeches begin to
suck away the lust for life
Thus.
Escape takes lead
into a world unknown uncontrolled by all
where borders are erased and potential infinite
Chosen cells, glands and transmittors
blast the body with joy
Astral feet running
up to dimensions covered with gold
stairs of glowing electroplasma
safir onyx and buzzing vibrations
A dead men`s banquet
food for the gods
There`s only 1 real world
our earth is but a shadow
Created from a child`s heart, a living jewel
from now on abode for a soul in its setting
Now.
Cutting the bloodline
re-tie the bleeding roots
to heavenly ship of glass
and let it drift in passive arrogance
in a one-word dialogue with the stars
3. Gyroscope
music: Strömblad
Geology is digging through my brain
a manta engulfing the world
to throw it up once again
to a guild of lifted daggers
Neo-wolf, but older again
than the Lupus itself
linked its fur to the gyroscope of time
a collection of failures
A diabolical sequence of stabs
written in cunning stones
from the fossilised den of thieves
our lives die
I see the nursing all-mother
spitting out a trail of termites
in the mouth of her first-born hope
breasts ripe with smog-filled rebellion
Apathy dressed in violence
white insectoid legs
curse her lips and the mouth
receptive only to pain
4. Dialogue with the Stars
music: Gelotte, Strömblad
(Instrumental)
5. The Hive
music: Gelotte, Strömblad
April night-time
And we run like mussles through the stagnant nodes of man
Blood-bridges lean towards the gaping synapses
to disarm the stars within us
Hornet Hive-dark
Severed wings in vainless beating
buzz out from an inferno of fangs
to disarm the stars within us
We should have been
so much more by now
Too dead inside
to even know the guilt
Waining Ring-deep
a halo of thorns
Sips now down in sheets of sharp silver
to disarm the stars within us
6. Jester Script Transfigured
music: Strömblad
Cre-age-aeon
new beginnings held in infinite vacuum
Biotronic test-worlds free of inscription
devoid of the echoes of man
noble cyborg savage
In cold ceremonial perfection
more radiant than the sum of suns
with each and every attribute
of animal, machine and man
Dystopia Electro-Heart
the grotesque and the linear
took one final giant blow
into the Ram of what is us
Installing awaiting the restoration
of unsequenced chaos
We`ve only seen the outlines of the beginning
and this core, the slowly moving raptor
will make the very notion of Hell
seem celestial in comparison
7. Morphing into Primal
music: Gelotte, Ljungström, Fridén, Strömblad
Detonation
fireworks and alchemy
Genes spliced and triggered
into the future
and her organic save
Seismorgasmic omnipotence
scenes of magma in my eyes
Eruption stones my system
I owe this to the animal inside
and the stiffness that blocks out the daylight
Morphing into primal
I`ll cover every particle
from there to Andromeda
not forgetting a single location
from the throat of the Ibis
to the co-ordinates of Matterhorn
My shot is genesis and catharsis
Penetratonaut in a cosmology of lusts
Suck this subterranean creature out
and show it proudly to the house of heaven
With one slight wave of my hand
stars dissolve
Dissolve my brain
Block my lungs
I`ll die from fever tomorrow
when locked in such a perfected "now"
8. Worlds within the Margin
music: Ljungström, Strömblad
Raindrop hits the leaf, changing its position slightly on the street
next to polls of monotonous water He walks,
Slipping feet from steps at random He falls
In the space between his body and the ground
comets cast of their names, stellar neurones misfire
Witnesses inhale the seed
and spit out a million branches
Buds abloom in all directions
from which events occur
relations and virused meetings
catch fire and explode
In the margin of butterfly wings
entire cycles of evolution
outplayed and faded
sparked and leaned back into
vacuum-filled nirvana
Between the two of my eyes
feverish fractals soar
dance like were they on drugs
peyote labyrinths re-mapped exits
A hasty blink
and a million life-to-comes
will never be the same
as they never were
In the kinetic energy of a moving fist
lies a birth-machine for a paralell universe
With the first movement in the organic soap
came a bouquet of alternative answers
all different multiplied and re-devided
Coded in the spinal cord of a trilobite
written between the legs on the Meganeura
suburban city maps and dormant dictator semen
marked their way trough time
9. Episode 666
music: Strömblad
Welcome here, the squirrel-wheel begins
fasten the left hand belts
Remember not to think too much
and your trip will be numbingly pleasant
Non-caring is the easiest way
but to secure a passage to the 2nd plane
you have to complete level one
Their dead-smile lips turn on their TV
while urban gravestones scrape the skies
Rising over marionette cities and marionette skies
This is episode 666
destination chaos
Each and all an actor blind
10. Everything Counts
(Originally by Depeche Mode)
The handshake seals a contract
From the contract there's no turning back
The turning point of a career
In Korea being insincere
The holiday was fun packed
The contract, still intact
The grabbing hands grab all they can
All for themselves - after all
It's a competitive world
Everything counts in large amounts
The graph on the wall
tells the story of it all
Picture it now
See just how
The lies and deceit gained a little more power
Confidence - taken in
By a suntan and a grin
11. Whoracle
music: Strömblad
(Instrumental)
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