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• Artiste: Sopor Aeternus
• Titre: Children Of The Corn
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There's not a shred of beauty here, Residing in the human flesh There's only sadness and confusion, And the stench of shit and death. In moments dull of self-pity, Of insufficiency and doubt, I catch myself a candid thief, Wishing that there'd be someone else. Sometimes ghosts are passing through, The mind of labyrinthine tomb, And yet its still unrivaled here, Because things aren't born, Only ideas are sleeping safely Far beyond the horrors of decay. And they a sacred and immortal Because they never have to fade. Thumbing at times half-heartedly Through flipbooks of a lonely child, All silent movies shake and flicker, In the dark theater between my things, Then countless are the handsome limbs, That wildly jump and hop Soulless bodies unspecified As they are numberless and cropped. When you close your tired eyes Does he then join you in this place? Will he cross over, share your dream Or does he vanish on the doorstep All to quickly disappear. Alas! Reality is such a crippled whore All mortal things are sick and rotten to the core, Only the night, a frail but kingly true, Gives birth to beauty love and truth. So why not stay and forever make a home In the darkness of the only place You never can belong? In a land, sublime that some call fantasy Our only hope of love Is immortality. There's not a shred of beauty here, Residing in the human flesh There's only sadness and confusion, And the stench of shit and death.