Текст песни SURVIVORIA - Non-Euclidean Flame

Man from Punt
A spice-rich scent
His gold was blunt
On flesh was spent
Greasy palms
On silken skin
He whispers psalms
To suck me in

His heavy breath
A scent of myrrh
He promises death
To all but her

My thighs, a gate
A carnal prize
He seals his fate
Between my sighs

The heat he sought, a static lie
A fracture inside my open thigh
He moaned for gods he couldn't name
Consumed by non-Euclidean flame
My mind is cold, a flesh in hum
His pleasure’s gold… has not yet come
Just icy dread, a circuit's whine
This broken bed, a cursed design
Non!
Euclidean!
flame...

He thrusts to claim
The final peak
A whispered name
So soft and weak

His body starts
To writhe and creak
He babbles of the 'colder parts'
A language I don't speak

His eyes see grids
Where walls should be
Forbidden bids
On geometry

My warmth, a fraud
A metal scarab
He meets a god
Whose touch is slab--like, cold and bare
A data stream of pure despair (Inside his dream)

The heat he sought, a static lie
A fracture inside my open thigh
He moaned for gods he couldn't name
Consumed by non-Euclidean flame
My mind is cold, a flesh in hum
His pleasure’s gold… has not yet come
Just icy dread, a circuit's whine
This broken bed, a cursed design
Non!
Euclidean!
flame...

I don't give bliss
I transmit truth
A venom-kiss
For wasted youth

No hot release
Just raw input
His frantic peace
Is rendered moot

I download dread into his core
The code of void, the final lore
No climax comes, just shattered sense
A gift of awful immanence.

A broken thing
Begins to crawl
I hear him sing
A funeral call
A trail of ooze
On marble floor
A life to lose
And nothing more
Grey slime and gold
The smell of ozone
A story told
In grinding bone
The hum remains.
The curse is fed.
The scarab clicks inside my head.
...inside my head.