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IMAGO MORTIS LYRICS
"Images From the Shady Gallery" (1998)
1. Bring Out Your Dead
2. The Shoemaker
3. Dying Pantheon
4. Res Cogitans
5. Empty Cradle
6. Deus Lhe Pague
7. Ultima Visio
8. Requiem
1. Bring Out Your Dead
Let me unbind your mind
With my brazen blade
Let me cut you deep to bring out
The truth that you’re afraid
Bring out your dead
Bring them to the fire
Bring out your dead
Bring them to the night
Bring out your dead
Bring out your desire
Bring out your dead
Bring out your dead
Let me show your fear
Let me show your grief
Your forbidden passions
Your repressed tears
Let me show your secret love,
Your pain and your belief
Let me show the caves inside your cliff
The interdict of the death will be
The only law to break
The transgression will be shown
As the only way to take
Let me make you hear the voice
Screaming inside your head
It demands you to bring out your dead
The seduction of the cadaver
Will lead you and make you see
The horror of the body
Will finally set you free
The interdict and the transgression
Together as one
Life and death forever will be
2. The Shoemaker
The waiting darkness holds things,
deep into the colors of dream
Living tones of suffering,
hidden shades of sadness within
Blinded by its painful glimpses,
I can see It flashing back my life
The waiting darkness holds things,
shining on the blade of my knife
I’m the shoemaker
I know how to heal your disease
I’m the shoemaker
I will put your anguish at ease
The mournful sounds that I hear,
ghostly symphonies of the past
The weeping tunes of my fears,
dying lips expiring at last
Dancing by the silent music,
I can hear its dreadful voice again
The mournful sounds that I hear,
harmonies of steel, blood and pain
Hear the shoemaker
Words of delusion and hate
See the shoemaker
Pictures of a man and his fate
In the dark
Dying woman crying weakly
In the dark
When I love, I love too deeply
It’s all gone
(The Voice from the Pit):
Life isn’t fair
It’s all gone
(The Voice from the Pit):
But death and despair
I’m a slave
Killing for my sacred mission
(The Voice from the Pit):
Kill for my joy
I’m a slave
Of nightmares and hallucinations
(The Voice from the Pit):
Live to destroy
(The Voice from the Pit & Charlie the Head):
Kryos Mary Krystos
Kryos Krystorah
Kryos Mary Krystos
Krystorah Krystorah
I’m the shoemaker
The last note of one sad symphony
I’m the shoemaker
The final verse of my elegy
3. Dying Pantheon
Live is to decompose slowly
You cannot stand it, but it’s only fate
They say that you are what you eat
I say that you are what you defecate
You try to refuse what life reserves to you
But bounded to the flesh you are born
Slowly you’re coming to the very end
Your final act performed to the worms
You try to escape into a fantasy
Deny the animal inside you
But it’s crying, claiming to be free
To change the whole life that you once knew
No hell, no heaven, no eternity
No supernatural being, no Great Plan
Back to the womb of nature you can be
No god, no devil, just a man
There will be no more prisons to hold you in
You are free now, and still it’s not late
You go on, discovering possibilities
When you show the world what you can create
I wanna be my own God
I wanna be my own God
4. Res Cogitans
I. Meditations
How can I be sure
about the world my eyes are seeing?
Is this all the truth
or just some kind of coherent dream?
What if there’s a deceiver god
who’s playing with my head?
How can I be sure if I’m alive or if I’m dead?
There must be an evil demon
that is pleased to hear my cries
Corrupting and seducing me
to believe in all its lies
I shall no more be deceived
by what remains impure
I will fight the doubt
and in the doubt I will be sure
II. The Four Rules
1) Evidence:
Only accept the undeniable proof
2) Analysis:
Dissect the fact to find within the truth
3) Synthesis:
Put the pieces together, side by side
4) Remembrance:
Nothing to omit, nothing to hide
I walk masked
Through the valleys of ignorance mist
I doubt
And that’s the only reason why I exist
I walk masked
And face this nasty urge to believe
I doubt
I think, I am, I meditate, I live
Cogito ergo sum
Cogito ergo sum
(sum res cogitans)
No evil
Shall hide
The Truth
Free Will
Shall be
The only law
I think,
I am,
I have a choice:
I believe!
Res cogitans
5. Empty Cradle
Sleep tight, my unborn child
Sleep tight, sleep tight
Sleep tight, my unborn child
Sleep tight, sleep tight
Close your empty eyes, my child,
close your eyes and dream
I’ll be close to you,
I’ll hear your silent scream
Won’t you cry no more,
I’ll wipe off your dry tears
It is not me you fear
Sleep tight, my child
6. Deus Lhe Pague
Por esse pão pra comer, por esse chão pra dormir
A certidão pra nascer e a concessão pra sorrir
Por me deixar respirar, por me deixar existir
Deus lhe pague
Pela cachaça de graça que a gente tem que engolir
Pela fumaça desgraça que a gente tem que tossir
Pelos andaimes pingentes que a gente tem que cair
Deus lhe pague
Pela mulher carpideira pra nos louvar e cuspir
E pelas moscas bicheiras a nos beijar e cobrir
E pela paz derradeira que enfim vai nos redimir
Deus lhe pague
7. Ultima Visio
Vinde a mim, ó Verme tão cálido,
A meu corpo lívido,
Primeiro repasto.
Recebei, ó Verme tão tépido,
De meus lábios castos
O beijo mais pálido.
Devorai, ó Verme famélico,
O naco mais sórdido,
O corpo estático.
Concebei, ó Verme tão lúcido,
Em meu ventre oco
O filho mais pródigo.
Celebrai, ó Verme endeusado,
No templo mais pútrido
O culto mais sacro.
Ofertai a um Deus sifilítico
A hóstia de Carne
E o Pus consagrado.
Verme feito Deus.
8. Requiem
Pássaros mortos cantam em sinfonias
em algazarra fria e muda, o Sol raiar
O velho louco ri e se inicia
Poetas cegos cantam em versos livres
toda essa agonia que a noite me dá
O velho louco ri e pressagia
O olho vazado da melancolia
fita o ponto cego que não há
O corpo morto sobre a cama fria
Ouvidos moucos ouvem a melodia
dissonante da agonia que me dá
O homem morto ri na cama fria
Pássaros cegos voam em harmonia
rumo ao fim de tudo que advirá
O coração morto bate em sintonia
Poetas loucos cantam em versos certos
todo esse deserto que me tomará
Sombras no céu ao Sol do meio-dia
A morte espreita nas sombras do Sol do meio-dia
O medo da morte é que move a vida que há
O amor é o medo da morte do amor em agonia
pra ressucitar...
O amor é o medo da morte do amor em agonia
O medo da morte é que move a vida que há
A morte é que move o desejo, o amor, a poesia
pra recomeçar...
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