True sorrow doesn't flirt with hope
No matter how great it may be
Hope rises twice as high
But spare me these seekers, leave me in peace

Down with them, down, down, down, down
That which suffers, does never hope
For they will no longer impress me
With all of the solemnity
And with the voice of my greatest days

I call to you my hearth, glorious hope
Wrapped in the cloak of illusions
Come and sit beside me
On the tripod of appeasement
With a whip of scorpions

I chased you if you wish me to believe that
You have forgotten all the grief
Which my short lived repentance caused you
Well, then bring along with you the sublime procession
Hold me up, I am fainting of all the virtues which I offended

And their everlasting atonement's
Yes, good people I order you to burn
On a spade red hot from the fire
And with a little yellow sugar for good measure
To burn the duck of doubt

With its vermouth lips
Which in the melancholy struggle
Between good and evil
Shedding teardrops which are not heartfelt

Creates everywhere, universal emptiness
It is the best thing you can do
Certainly, flesh and bon
You have no reason to blush

But listen to me, I don't invoke your understanding
It would spit blood at the horror you
'Cause better forget all about it
And be consistent with yourselves
There were no constraints there
Whenever I wanted to kill, I killed