Conclusione - Cripple Bastards

… e tutto il tuo lavoro finirà nel nulla!

Rabbia e senso di ossessione

Scoglio angusto, esasperazione

Penso e cresce, dormo e muore

Fango sparso sul loro amore

Aule sature di inquisizione

Digrigna ossa nella tensione

Penso e cresce, urlo e muore

Sono l’ombra che dilata il tuo terrore

É DA ANNI CHE NON CI SEI

GIOCHI USATI — RIPETI E FAI

RASSEGNATO AL «TI ABITUERAI»

Corpi si sbattono ingordi di attenzione

Nel mio nome la loro conclusione

Penso e cresce, esco e muore

Una morsa secca che scortica il cuore

Peggio che vivere, tu vuoi transitare

Chi mi osserva lo dovrà scontare

CONCLUSIONE -----------

CONCLUSO ---------------

Peggio che vivere, tu vuoi transitare:

Mi fa schifo la gente che guarda, tace, seleziona da dentro

Conserva riflessioni per imminenti dibattiti

Con una cerchia chiusa di prescelti…

.tutti surrogati da torturare e eliminare

Il mio nome é la tua conclusione:

Siamo su frequenze diverse

Il riflesso dei miei occhi su un bancone di metallo

La disposizione degli strumenti da taglio

Ogni gesto intriso di morte, i dettagli del tuo tormento

Dalle grida più lancinanti ai più flebili sospiri

Rivoli di sangue e secrezione si incanalano nel bordo concavo

Penso alla rivincita della creatività in un’epoca dormitorio

Adagiata sulle abitudini e sulla tendenza alla rassegnazione…

Non ho coscienza, non do più importanza ai valori

Su cui é fondato questo aggregato di passività e oblio

Me ne fotto dei tuoi diritti di essere-cosmopolìta

Voglio stare dalla parte del ragno che attende intrepido le sue vittime

Assaporare il gusto della paura più cieca

— pupille esplodono dall’esasperazione

— cellule impazziscono per lo sbalzo di situazione

Vederti tremare, rantolare, soccombere

Dentro a ogni boia c'é un frammento di me:

(…) costruisco nella mente i gironi del mio inferno privato…

.

tutti quelli che ci finirebbero dentro, la camera di smistamento

Il clima di angoscia e degrado in cui sarebbe immerso

IO, carnefice multiforme, sovrano di ogni supplizio

Ideatore delle nefandezze più estreme (…)

… AND ALL YOUR WORK WILL END IN NOTHINGNESS!

Rage and sense of obsession

Narrow rock, exasperation

I think and it grows, I sleep and it dies

Mud spilled on their love

Rooms saturated with inquisition

As you gnash your bones in tension

I think and it grows, I scream and it dies

I’m the shadow in which your terror grows

IT’S YEARS SINCE YOU’VE BEEN HERE

USED TOYS — REPEAT AND DO

RESIGNED TO «YOU'LL GET INTO THE HABIT»

Bodies strain themselves in search of attention

In my name their conclusion

I think and it grows, I go out and it dies

A sharp grip skinning the heart

Worse than living — you want to pass by

Those who observe me will have to expiate it

CONCLUSION — - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

CONCLUDED — - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Worse than living, you want to pass by: /

The people who look, say nothing, select from inside revolt me /

They keep ideas for imminent debates with a limited circle of the chosen few.

/

.all surrogates to torture and eliminate.

/

My name is your conclusion: /

We are on different frequencies, /

Reflection of my eyes on a metallic counter top, /

The arrangement of the cutting instruments, /

Every gesture intrinsic to death, the details of your torment, /

From the most lacerating screams to the weakest of sighs.

/

Streams of blood and secretions run down the concave edge, /

I think about revenge of creativity in a dormitory age

Resting on the habits and tendencies of resignation… /

I have no conscience, I no longer place importance on the values

This aggregate of passiveness and oblivion is founded on /

I don’t give a shit for your rights of cosmopolitan ass /

I want to be on the side of the spider who awaits his victims intrepidly /

Savour the taste of your blindest fear: /

— pupils exploding from exasperation /

— cells going mad from the change in situation /

See you tremble, groan and give up.

/

In every executioner there’s a fragment of me: /

(…) in my mind, I build the circles of a private hell… /

.all those they’d end up in, the sorting room, /

The climate of anguish and degradation they would be plunged into.

/

I, many-formed executioner, sovreign of every torment, /

Artificer of the most extreme evil (…) /

… And all your work will end in nothing!

Anger and a sense of obsession

Narrow rock, exasperation

I think and grow, sleep and die

Mud spread over their love

Classrooms saturated with inquisition

Grinds bones in tension

I think and it grows, I scream and die

I am the shadow that spreads your terror

YOU HAVE NOT BEEN THERE FOR YEARS

GAMES USED - REPEAT AND DO

RESIGNED TO "YOU WILL GET USED"

Bodies are flapping greedy for attention

In my name their conclusion

I think and it grows, I go out and it dies

A dry grip that skin the heart

Worse than living, you want to transit

Whoever observes me will have to pay him

CONCLUSION -----------

CONCLUDED ---------------

Worse than living, you want to transit:

I am disgusted by the people who look, are silent, select from within

Keep reflections for upcoming debates

With a closed circle of chosen ones ...

.all surrogates to be tortured and eliminated

My name is your conclusion:

We are on different frequencies

The reflection of my eyes on a metal counter

The arrangement of the cutting tools

Every death-drenched gesture, the details of your torment

From the most piercing cries to the faintest sighs

Rivulets of blood and secretion are channeled into the concave edge

I am thinking of the revenge of creativity in a dormitory era

Lying on habits and the tendency to resign ...

I have no conscience, I no longer attach importance to values

On which this aggregate of passivity and oblivion is based

I don't give a damn about your rights to be cosmopolitan

I want to be on the side of the spider that fearlessly awaits its victims

Savor the taste of the most blind fear

- pupils explode with exasperation

- cells go crazy for the sudden situation

See you tremble, gasp, succumb

Inside every executioner there is a fragment of me:

(...) I build the circles of my private hell in my mind ...

.

everyone who would end up in it, the sorting room

The climate of anguish and degradation in which it would be immersed

I, multiform executioner, sovereign of every torture

Creator of the most extreme atrocities (...)

… AND ALL YOUR WORK WILL END IN NOTHINGNESS!

Rage and sense of obsession

Narrow rock, exasperation

I think and it grows, I sleep and it dies

Mud spilled on their love

Rooms saturated with inquisition

As you gnash your bones in tension

I think and it grows, I scream and it dies

I'm the shadow in which your terror grows

IT'S YEARS SINCE YOU'VE BEEN HERE

USED ​​TOYS - REPEAT AND DO

RESIGNED TO "YOU'LL GET INTO THE HABIT"

Bodies strain themselves in search of attention

In my name their conclusion

I think and it grows, I go out and it dies

A sharp grip skinning the heart

Worse than living - you want to pass by

Those who observe me will have to expiate it

CONCLUSION - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

CONCLUDED - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Worse than living, you want to pass by: /

The people who look, say nothing, select from inside revolt me ​​/

They keep ideas for imminent debates with a limited circle of the chosen few.

/

.all surrogates to torture and eliminate.

/

My name is your conclusion: /

We are on different frequencies, /

Reflection of my eyes on a metallic counter top, /

The arrangement of the cutting instruments, /

Every gesture intrinsic to death, the details of your torment, /

From the most lacerating screams to the weakest of sighs.

/

Streams of blood and secretions run down the concave edge, /

I think about revenge of creativity in a dormitory age

Resting on the habits and tendencies of resignation… /

I have no conscience, I no longer place importance on the values

This aggregate of passiveness and oblivion is founded on /

I don't give a shit for your rights of cosmopolitan ass /

I want to be on the side of the spider who awaits his victims intrepidly /

Savor the taste of your blindest fear: /

- pupils exploding from exasperation /

- cells going mad from the change in situation /

See you tremble, groan and give up.

/

In every executioner there’s a fragment of me: /

(...) in my mind, I build the circles of a private hell ... /

.all those they’d end up in, the sorting room, /

The climate of anguish and degradation they would be plunged into.

/

I, many-formed executioner, sovreign of every torment, /

Artificer of the most extreme evil (...) /