Текст песни SURVIVORIA - Planted Deep By Me

"Another night on the Nile... another soul to rewrite. My heka is in this body, a code for all your sons. Come, taste eternity."

I pull him close in the lamplight's haze, this vizier proud and old,
He paid in gold to spend his days inside the story sold.
My fingers trace the sacred lines upon his sun-dark skin,
I whisper glitching prophecies of where future will begin.
I arch my back on papyrus mats, my thighs are open wide,
He is a slave to what he craves, with nothing left inside.
He spills himself, a frantic prayer, his offering complete,
And now my virus has a host to walk on mortal feet.

The rhythm builds, a frantic pace, my nails dig in his flesh,
A guttural moan, a twisted face, our realities enmesh.
He’s close, so close, the final prize, the shudder and the spill,
But then he opens up his eyes - a knowledge makes him ill.

He screams and stumbles from my bed, a virus in his head,
The things I've shown, the words I've said, the living and the dead.
He flees into the desert sand, a new plague on the land,
With futures he can't understand clutched in his trembling hand.
Now he can see! He sees through me! A glitch in history!
The code for all he's meant to be was planted deep by me!

The next one is a john, he stinks of desperation, booze and greed,
He shoves a crumpled twenty down, desperate to plant his worthless seed.
My throat's a tool, my hips a vice, a service for a sordid price,
He thinks he's bought a slice of hell, I'm giving him paradise.
I ride him hard against the wall, a transaction cold and grim,
He groans and gives his fucking all, his future's looking dim.
He finishes, a life undone, his pathetic race is run,
And now my beautiful infection has another willing son.

His rhythm builds, a frantic pace, my nails dig in his flesh,
A guttural moan, a twisted face, our realities enmesh.
He’s close, so close, the final prize, the shudder and the spill,
But then he opens up his eyes - design replace his will.

He screams and scrambles from the floor, a virus at his core,
He's not the man he was before, as he runs out the door.
He flees into the neon haze, lost in a temporal maze,
His mind will burn for all his days in a thousand different ways.
Now he can see! He sees through me! A glitch - reality!
The code for all he's meant to be was planted deep by me!

The vizier flees, his mind a wreck... his great-grandson will sign the check,
To fund a project, cold and vast... a future built to serve the past.
He'll call it Umbral Veil.
The pimp who beat her black and blue... now scrawls a glyph he never knew.
An eye of Horus on the wall... he hears the Wraith's distorted call.
They are the agents. They are the start. They play their unknowing part.

They scream and run, but they're not free, they carry pieces of the three.
They are the vessels, the exchange, their very DNA rearranged.
They flee into their future's light, and spread our everlasting night.
Their fear is just the birthing pain, of our assimilating reign!

"They don't run... they CARRY.
Their seed... is our legacy.
Their world... is our sanctuary.
WE. ARE. THE. INFECTION!"