Genre: Technical Death Metal

terrible racket makes me suffer, like a fanfare
Marching throughout my head, booming so loud my soul has [bad word] deaf...
Nevertheless, reality stands firm, but a very strange conceptual world
Occurs inside this mad, distorted ode
Behind my [bad word] the ludicrous crowd, full of movie makers' imagery
So forth I am, so forth I dream
Frenzied [bad word] unceasingly
Drawn by the wizard's patterns
My mind is no longer my own
Above those hard-packed illusions, bright with pictures, that shall kill the wise's vigour
Is spoiled a great generation
Mankind has lost its mind, and therewith the arable ground, the vast field, the great
Which the scholars own
Cursed species - Humans
Can you imagine?
What shall save you, once the intelligence
Will [bad word] speechless?
Locked into silence?
When you will remain a fabric's device
Old majesty, deprived from her kingdom, her memory will never carry on
There goes the orb of a system
Ones, adorn with a sad Eden, and others tried to make it perfect