Son Of The Tongue's Prison

Il faut tuer les passions
Please take me with you in your lap
I need to lost sight
I’m not a saint but I need to castrate myself

Eyes create illusions, genitals create false idols
Knives in the hands, no stitches, no tears-eating face
You’ve got to kill passions
Sorrow and joy

Blood and milk
Tired of chasing your shadows
Please admit me into your womb again
Pulled in front of our audience

Bisogna Uccidere Le Passioni
Curtain’s closing, lights off
Applause