7. The Jester Race

Rush faster on the one-way lane
the answers so silent

Rusty gods in their machine-minds armours
grind our souls in the millstone of time
the "deathbed harvest" is dead man's banquet
of mould ridden bread and black, poisoned wine

And we go..our steps so silent
And we go..our blooded trace;
The Jester Race

Calling our to the gathered masses;
their answers so silent

And we go..

Embracing the tools of the neo-wolf age
that speak of silence and silence alone

Offering the tokens, the reliced idols
to the heirs of the newly raped ground
inferior even to the transparent winds
lesser in motion and sound

And we go..

There is no trace of me
in their altered blueprints of life

Gaia impaled on their horns and lances
to fumes from her body give case
as the throng of blind mind savour the scent,
dream-dead from prosaic and hate

Sunwind strokes the electroheart,
ignition roars through the corridors,
stream launching the binary vessels

Vanities in extreme formations
ride into tomorrow's rigid great face
The Machinery outlives the futile scripts
of our dying jester race

8. December Flower

Towards the rich archaic heavens; towards the lack diorama
you are the artist and the texture
that plays with the mantle of the Earth

When the bleakest of powders
lie rooted to the starched stones
and roots that feed the peaking trees
embrace the sleeping shores

Archaic pearls of sleep and death
the voice of December losing its breath
and the floweryard of whit and grey is haunted

White as the down of flaking snow,
the heroic emblems of life

Green is the color of my death
as the winter-guise I swoop towards teh ground
Green is the landscape of my sorrowfilled passing

We are In Flames,
towards the dead archaic heavens
We are the mantle and the texture
the alters the mantle of the Earth

10. Dead God In Me

To slit the grinning wounds
from childhood's seven moons
the palette stained with the ejaculated passions
(of forbidden, hedonistic colors...)

Strike from omnipotence; all-seer, all-deemer
and haunt my severed country with your
dripping, secret games

You pick the unripe lilies
deflored and peeled the bleeding petals
made known to me
the grainy stains, the crimson lotus
of the Black-Ash Inheritance,
the semen feed of gods and masters
The worms still in me,
still a part of me,
racing out from leaking rooms,
swoop from broken lungs to block the transmission
to put an end to the nomad years

Father
you are the
dead god in me

Whoracle (1997)

1. Jotun
2. Food For The Gods
3. Gyroscope
4. The Hive
5. Dialogue With The Stars
6. Jester Script Transfigured
7. Morphing Into Primal
8. Worlds Within The Margin
9. Episode 666
10. Everything Counts
11. Whoracle

1. Jotun

[Strömblad, Gelotte]

I often dream of huge numb buildings
jet-black sinister architecture
being installed when nobody sees
Their appearance so sudden
that few would take notice

And when I wake up
I imagine being crushed by one
imagining it's weight it's silence
and the absence of excuses for a havoced life
and the priviledge of a 22-kilometer tombstone

Jotun

A body of black
that carried no reflection
defying it's own room
un-earthly eggs of decreation

There would be colonies
mushroom-scattered forever out of context
rising spores from a dying world
to pollute to chase away what's left

Sun-white pulverised desert stone
and serpentine lizard mouths
Pales away the pyramids
rewriting 4500 years of history
raping the statue of liberty
outplays the acropolis
inverting the fjords
invades the N.Y. skyline to
dream it's own existence in one single final word

Jotun

Can we identify them
as the flint buried in our reptile skulls
or the time-bomb coded in our dna

2. Food For The Gods

[Ljungström, Gelotte, Strömblad]

Shame marries the guilt
introduces itself to the
concept of total loneliness
Sensations repressed
make friends with
Suicidia and
here the leeches begin to
suck away the lust for life

Thus
Escape takes lead
into a world unknown uncontrolled by all
where border are erased and potential infinite
Chosen cells glands and transmittors
blast the body with joy
Astral feet running
up to dimension covered with gold
stairs of glowing ectoplasma
safir onyx and buzzing vibrations
A dead man banquet
food for the gods

There's only 1 real world
our earth is but a shadow
Created from a child's heart a living jewel
from now on abode for a soul in its setting

Now
sutting the bloodline
re-tie the bleeding roots
to a heavenly ship of glass
and let it drift in passive arrogance
in a one-word dialogue with the stars

3. Gyroscope

[Strombläd]

Geology is digging through
my brain
a manta engulfing the world
to throw it up once again
to a guild of a lifted dagger

Neo-wolf but older again
than the Lupus itself
linked its fur to the gyroscope of time
a collection of failures

A diabolical sequences of stabs
written in cunning stone
from the fossilised of thieves
our lives dies

I see the nursing all-mother
spitting out a trail of termites
in the mouth of her first-born hope
breast ripe with smog-filled rebellion

Apathy dressed in violence
white insectoid legs
curse her lips and mouth
receptive only to pain

4. The Hive

[Gelotte, Strömblad]

April night-tyme
And we run like muscles through the stagnant nodes of man
Blood-bridges lean towards the gaping synapses
to disarms the stars within us

Hornet Hive-dark
Severed wings in vainless beating
buzz out from inferno of fangs
to disarms the stars within us

We should have been
so much more by now
Too dead inside
to even know the guilt

Waning Ring-deep
a halo of thorns
Sips now down in the sheets of sharp silver
to disarm the star within us

6. Jester Script Transfigured

[Strömblad]

Cre-age-aeon
new beginning held in infinite vacuum
Biotronic test-world free of inscription
devoid of the echoes of man
noble savage cyborg

In the cold ceremonial perfection
more radiant than the sum of suns
with each and every attribute
of animal machine and man

Dystopia ElectroHeart
the grotesque and the linear
took one final giant blow
into the Ram of
what is us

Installing awaiting the restoration of unsequenced chaos

We've only seen the outlines of the beggining
and this core the slowly moving raptor
will make the very notion of Hell
seem celestial in comparison

7. Morphing Into Primal

[Gelotte, Ljungström, Fridén, Strömblad]

Detonation
Fireworks and alchemy
Genes spliced and triggered
into the future
and her organic cave

Seismorgasmic omnipotence
scenes of magma in my eyes
Eruption stones my system

I owe this to the animal inside
and the stiffness that blocks out the daylight
Morphing into primal

I'll cover every particle
from there to Andromeda
not forgetting a single location
from the throat of Ibis
to the co-ordinate of Matterhorn

My shot is genesis and catharsis
Penetratonaut in a cosmology of lust

Suck this subterrenean creature out
and show it proudly to the house of heaven
With one slight wave of my hand
star dissolves

Dissolve my brain
Block my lungs
I'll die from fever tomorrow
when locked in sych a perfected "now"