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MORG LYRICS

Buried

"Buried" (2006 Demo)

1. Evil Eye
2. Disciple of Hate
3. Strife







1. Evil Eye

Hear me speak!

I toil, the sweat in my eyes
Makes me blind.
Youíre covered up, my work is done.
Now I feel relieved, Iím
In control.
Your eye will haunt me no more.

Iím not insane though you might
Think I am.
True, very dreadfully nervous
I have been.
I loved you, youíd never
Done me wrong,
It was your pale vultureís eye.

I - remember it still:
Haunting eye, omen of ill.
I - made up my mind
To rid myself of the eyeÖ

Forever!
Forever!

For seven nights I gazed and
Watched your sleep,
My lantern seeking your
Evil eye.
The eighth night rewarded me:
My light fell upon the vulture eye.

I - brought you down,
Smothered, pounded to the ground.
I - concealed your corpse
Cleverly underneath floorboards.

Hidden!
Forever!

I - stopped your heart,
Destroyed the eye, tore you apart.
I - concealed your corpse
Safely underneath floorboards.
I can tell something is odd,
I fell less like a god.
And now I hear it and start:
From underneath the beating of a heart.

Villains!
Dissemble no more!
I admit the deed!
Tear up the planks!
Here, here beats the hideous heart!




2. Disciple of Hate

Cast down into a world of turmoil,
Your mind denied, you follow what they say.
The evil uncovered from the depths of the soul,
Learnt the trade of destruction.

Hate is the motive for superiority,
A dream of mass obliteration.
The eyes of the dead silent & judging,
They salute the living.

Disciple - One more remains
I think not, question not, content with blind servitude...
Disciple - The one of Hate
Iíll obey, must obey, come what may, Hell or high water.

Centuries of tension climaxes to its end,
Transforming life into death.
A holocaust for the hollow cause,
Conflict the spawn.

Love is hate on the flip side of the coin,
Cast a shadow on past and present alike.
National pride turns into a dead pile,
Man destroys his offspring.

Disciple...

Obey!

Manifestations of an unconscious mind,
Run free and corrupt our world.
For once in unison he walks,
But hunts himself down.

End result - the cannon defeats the sword,
The burden carried by generations to come.
A cycle of progression and redemption,
It is about to begin.

Disciple...




3. Strife

My worst enemies, staring back at me from my reflection.
My will to be, beyond my self will destroy me.
Time after time, failing countless trials, I amount to none.
The worst in me, the best in me, the death of me.

From rage to pleas I've seen them all,
From threats to prayers Iíve seen them stall,
Internal sources overused,
Drained of resource.
Drowning in uncertainty,
Part of me will disagree,
Consensus cannot be reached,
Futile to try.
Absolute eludes my reach,
Abstract concepts I now leech,
Vicious circle closing in,
Re-think, re-speak.
Iím a subject,
Iím dissected
By internal strife.

A change in my soul,
These eyes growing old.
In my hands is life,
From change spawns my strife.

Callous embrace of growing uncertainty will not leave me,
Fighting hard to attain piece of mind, itís eating me.
Confused and weak, I fail the trials again, time after time.
Everything in me, nothing in me, the death of me.

Caught in a maze of improbable thoughts,
Numb, insecure and broken,
Striving to free myself from my hell.

Harboring pitiful goals,
Obscure efforts to no avail,
From change spawns my strife.

 


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