Birth - Fiendish Figuration

Exposed with hands as empty, as the opposite space
Crawlingly we move to where the final station lies
To whom is the debt that we are forced to pay
Real faces dare to appear only, when we turn away.

Truth reveals itself ... - reveal yourself!
A face ordained to serve the hypocrites
We know the masks, the artificial smiles
Mind's black eyes should break the lies.

Distorted pictures are all trans/parent to us
Phantasmagoria, such a useful weapon
Ineffectual against us
Enemies with the knowledge of truth
Truth makes me sick ... - what a wretched play.

Paralysed by flesh and bone
Condemned to vegetate
Condemned to stay alone
Helplessly we are escaping, we're clinging to
Stranded at the shores ... oh, beloved infamous side
Our distress in perfection, trials and tribulations
Preferring our pain, we'll stay and die.