Dodheimsgard

Sonar Bliss

Dodheimsgard


I'm the scenery of vendetta 
Mind and soul 
I'm the shapeless victory 
Order and suppression 

All in the tower of the virgin 
Triumphant in a pale gray light 
In despire of how to deal with it 
A sweet, turbulent intoxication 

Rapidly I yearn to bare the mark 
In a tragic understatement of the lions force 
A tribe who's independence is no longer 
Disturbed by the ragged interception of happy thorns 

As I face the whispering 
I answer to the master 
A biochemical trembling 
Voices in my head 

And thus I appear with wakeful eyes 
Trust insight 
A tedious dramatic implant 
Like swollen iron feeds itself, 
Longing for the moon 

Unbreakable and unborn 
Sifting the contents of the surface 
A ceremony of killers 
A scorched fucking snale 

In postures of gold 
That might be recognized 
But as long as there are shelters 
You'll always find yourself detained 

A huge defenseless atmosphere 
Wretched and toiled for centuries 
Is ever so tender as long as we're alive 
For it is with great wealth that I, declare this 

Flapping wings, tired monster 
Ruthless in folly frames 
Attempting gaiety upon sinister forces 
All within, we will win...