Pigrimage

The time you were born
Is a poisonned fruit
A pointless sin, vain and pretentious
The daily abortion
Of beauty and good
God is overthroned by a monkey
The sacred is rendered dirty
You wait for the omega sign
demand that the curtain be drawn.

Trempé au glorieux sang des pourceaux
Le front encagé de clous
et le verbe ardent.

I read the lines you carved
Deep in the tongue's flesh
With a blade of salt
Decipher the ever bleeding map
Via dolorosa.

Céleste arpenteur des soues
pélerin de l'absolu
Possessed by the echoes
Of a wrath divine
The joyful pain of the prophets.

Every word's an obvious sign
Even blasphemies are prayers
That shake the stars
And tear heaven asunder.

Motionless, in the heart of mystery
the soul dispels the mirage of time
enjoys the end.

Here, exiled, too far from the face
We have no other choice
Than to wait and hope.

Wishing the pigs would drown
Writhe and suffocate
In their own mire.

For the void has to summon the abyss
the void is the key
Opening the dragon's door.

We have no other choice
Than to walk in silence
Until they're spewed by the skies!

Beati qui lugent (bis)

If the universe is abandoned
If grace is only the light
Of a dead star
Then we might have reached
The omega station:
The roving is ending at last.