DIVINE SYNDROME LYRICS

1. Blossoming

[Instrumental]

2. Inertia

Into constant evolution
We must face constant problematics.
Ideal in deconstruction,
Investments we place in the matrix.
A more comfortable digestion
That obliterate liberty's risks.

Stop compromising
In order to cease fear,
'Cause compromising is
Our weakness drawing clear.

Dwelling deeper within our scheme
To find dysfunction in the foundation.
Or contemplating the machine
And cover the dissatisfaction.
All material is used in
Constructing motionless creation.

To revise blueprints
Makes our self-esteem fall,
Giving us the hints
Of a breach in the wall.

Bureaucratized intelligence
Is leading to obsolescence.
A paralytic enterprise
When stress and structure are synchronised.

A process led to inertia
Wallows among the same obstacles.
Measures to avoid those traumas
Keep decay that preserves the feeble.
The ones who sold their foveas
Somehow made the deal acceptable.

3. After The Fall Of Babel

A call from inside, dying to be heard,
That we push aside, repressed and configured.
Virtue of message which patterns obliterate.
Mediocre image of a mind who's inarticulate.

In a doubtful region where vigour and drawing back cohabit,
Intention is cushioned, then words never reach the lips.
At the arrival, a mere idea of the emotion,
The initial signal is driven to the brink of stagnation.

So many things that need to be said,
But we're goddamn scared of them being interpreted.
So many things that we want them to tell,
But we just don't try to get the moral of the tale.

All those measures used in the name of security
Should be gathered to concrete your thoughts precisely.

Imposed on the mind speech tinged with confusion,
So we step behind in a defensive motion.
A system in crisis, unable to focus.
Wrong analysis project all the rest in minus.

Curious paradox of an ear that pretends altruism,
Imposing his thoughts not to solve but to start the mechanism
Which between the speakers creates a distance that leads to schism.
Intention-made flowers finally let a scent of stinking egotism.

So many things that need to be said,
But we're goddamn scared of them being interpreted.
So many things that we want them to tell,
But we just don't try to get the moral of the tale.

Egocentricity that projects on the word's surface,
When we should breathe their emanation and embrace.

4. Symbiotic

Diagnostic of a sick society
Who feeds the membrane of a common cancer,
Which infects minds to fulfill the empty,
The craving hunger to contaminate the others.

Necrosis of your soul
For the insemination of everyone.
Nothing is worth to be your own.

Neurotic are the infertiles praying for taint.
Orifices and wounds they handfill with pus.
Incapable of procreating they lost their purity thus,
Parasitic embryo maturity will gain...

And then it rises as a clone of a dead larva.
Blindfolded with pride they contemplate the bastard,
Incomplete organism drowning in it's own saliva,
Starving now it is festing on it's mother.

Gangrene of your soul
For the sporadisation of everyone.
Nothing is worth to be your own.

Illusional conformity
The goods of flesh's impurity

"The corporation is there to watch over the well spreading of the epidemic, publicizing the world-wide application of the microbes. They show the happy ill-ones in terminal phase parading, and everyone runs to get another tumor injection."

While her pestilent offspring feeds from her last flesh remains,
She savors convulsing her last nausea.
Seeking now the orgasms of glory and earning
To be a part of this new civilisation's gonorrhea.

Through the cataracts of her eyes she sees a blurred image.
Repulsing citizens: here's appearing the healer!
She spits blood laughing, pointing out the outrage.
As he walks away she feels the doubt take in her.

5. Citadelle

Vertige des possibilités.
Je préfère les souffrances vestales.
La mort du progrès est un prix que j'suis prêt à payer.
Même si j'ai pas évolué,
Même si j'ai toujours aussi mal,
Je suis bien en sécurité.

Perdu face à la difficulté,
Je ferme les yeux sur le problème,
L'angoisse devant les méandres de ma propre complexité.
Même si rien n'a été réglé,
Même l'ignorance pèse tout de même,
Je finirai bien par oublier.

Ainsi je l'ai vu se bâtir,
Inconscient système structural,
Réconfortante stabilité.
Et la faiblesse m'a fait construire
Les splendeurs architecturales
D'une perverse rationalité.

Pour pallier à l'insupportable,
Citadelle maintenant édifiée
Fera l'écho d'une propagande.
Convention d'une corruption stable
Qui gracieusement pourra dévier
C'qu'on veut pas qu'la raison entende.

Cloîtré au milieu des remparts,
Je vois dehors par une meurtrière.
J'attends qu' on m'arrache à mon sort,
Dans ma citadelle aux fourbes lumières.

Puissants mécanismes projecteurs
M'élèvent par des preuves fabriquées
Au piédestal de la victime.
Je lègue le blâme accusateur
Aux débiles qui vont l'accepter,
Et l'incohérence s'envenime.

Moi j'ai assez porté ma croix,
Le confort laisse un goût amer
Sur les lèvres qui embrassent leur sort.
Puisses-tu te voir enfin en moi,
Puisses-tu comprendre toute ta misère.
Moi j'ai envie de voir c'qu'y a dehors.

Cloîtré au milieu des remparts,
Je vois dehors par une meurtrière.
J'attends qu'on m'arrache à mon sort,
Dans ma citadelle aux fourbes lumières.

6. For All Those Who Died

There is nothing to save,
Nothing to taste,
There is nothing to risk,
So there's nothing to brave,
If there is, it's a waste,
All achievements shall blink when we cease to exist.
Insignificant life,
Insignificant faith,
Those pathetic ideals.
Finally to end this strife
And purge thyself I hate,
From the edge I'll respond to the abyss appeal.

Oblivion hatches itself to me.
Sublime morbid immensity.
An hurricane of souls in doom.
Hemorrhagic death in bloom.

In this nocturnal sky
Innumerable corpses
Dance like autumnal leaves.
Funeral lament magnified
By necrotic voices,
A chorus from this mosaïc of death motives.
Those passed away lowering their moan,
Stopping their motion
And turning to me.
I'm standing on my own,
Core of their dominion,
Somehow feeling the guilt in face of their envy.

Hides in their empty eye-sockets
All the burden of their regrets.
My vain bravery against life sink.
I think...

Every birth is a semen
Within the opaque uterine coffin.
Every death is another seed
From which the oblivious garden will feed.
Value that seems volatile,
Or just another naïve comforting lie,
Unveil it's true relief
While facing at the diffuse light of death.

I hold on to the flesh,
'Cause it is who I am.
I drink now at their breast
The nectar of existence.
Never will I again
Dare doubting of this chance.
In front of them I stand
In paradoxical trance.

7. Chrysalide

À travers le réseau
Des concepts abstraits,
L'égalité est une chose injuste.
Articuler les mots,
Confondre avec les faits,
Mue par le désir d'avoir plus.
Une recherche rapide
De sagesse toute prête
À être breveté et prêchée.
Une pensée chrysalide
Dont les parois reflètent
Une fenêtre sur sa réalité.

Métamorphose atrophique
D'un papillon soudant ses ailes,
Et de manière sophistique
Démontre aux autres comme elles sont belles.

Il érige l'échafaud,
Analyse ses suspects,
Établie la synthèse de leurs us.
Articuler les maux,
Confondre avec le vrai,
Mue par son stérile processus.
Une récurrence rigide
D'esquives obsolètes
Face à la rationalité.
Dans son cocon sordide
Ses illusions sont nettes :
Réconfort et supériorité.

Et ses effets stigmatiques,
Décorations superficielles,
D'une ignorance romantique
Suffisent pour faire fuir l'essentiel.

Le souci de devenir un grand monarque,
Vouloir immédiatement laisser sa marque.
Lépidoptère séduit par la diffuse lumière
Se heurte constamment au bulbe de verre.
Oh! Grand sphinx se voulant si énigmatique,
Vouant un culte à l'ampoule électrique,
Voyant en ce brillant soleil artificiel
Tous les secrets de la terre et du ciel.

8. The Coldest Woods

I'm lost in the woods,
And they're the coldest ones.
Appear specters of light beings,
Then frozen there they go.
I'm lost in the woods,
Deceptions cry in canons.
The foetus of my being
Fossilized under the snow.

And then I see under the ice
Of a frozen pond,
Imprisoned by a thirteen-year winter,
Separated by the fence of my vices,
Drowning pictures and sounds of a reflection,
Marvelous and desperate,
Of my inner self in the waters
Deploying waves of consciousness.

Suddenly I hear those children's cries
I have always refused to hear.
This foetus I buried myself
To gain a tissue of lies,
He's calling me, his distress I can feel.
As I comprehend my loss,
I dig frantically the ground.
My hands are lacerated by the frost.
When I finally find his body
He dies in my arms.

I'm to blame for his death.
Now it's only between us.
I did not forget you.
Where were you all this time ?
If you knew how much I regret...
It doesn't matter, now you're lost.
There must be something I can do.
You and me must combine.

And then I see under the ice
Of a frozen pound,
Imprisoned by a thirteen-year winter,
Separated by the fence of my fears,
Drowning pictures and sounds of a reflection
Marvelous that supplicate
My present self, looking from the border,
To deploy waves of consciousness.

Nervously I start to cry,
The whining that you don't want anyone to hear.
When I rock the rotting child
He whispers conforting lies
Gently to my ears.
As I realize the cost,
I huddle on my own.
Welcoming madness of which I'm the host,
Softly humming to the corpse
The story of a coward.
An autophobic among the others...Amen.

9. Withering

[Instrumental]







DIVINE SYNDROME LYRICS