Woorden: Despised Icon. The Ills Of Modern Man. Furtive Monologue.

This in audible voice has flattered my ears
An unreal sound of distress, a sensation that aroused my being
This moment was all yours but the pleasure was all mine
All the weight I've been carrying vanished for a valuable instant

One day when this curtain will fall
Masks will be shattered

Your eyes silently scream astonishing grief
The satisfaction I devour is not retribution
Your sorrow's my devotion
I'll be rewarded with your degradation
Nourished by bitter passions,
My hunger for human deprivation will be quenched
No retribution
Your sorrow's my devotion

A furtive monologue

This unspoiled opus wasn't meant to persist eternally
Masks and disguises returned to their relevant closets
This theatrical masquerade will be lead
to its irrevocable ending

One day or another,
One day when this curtain will fall
Masks will be shattered