acéphale Songtext
von Lucrecia Dalt

Couldn′t help but do gash
With my dull blade
Joy is unafraid
I had to, felt right
Seems right

The surface: clueless mind
The face: is a tomorrow
My wildest pleasure
Your eyes are fire


Feet poised apart
Balance set
Shoulders aligned
In wait for descent
Fire bent
Katana held
The sword is the thought
The sword is the grip
Couldn't help but to wear
Every single thought as a cameo (cameo)
I capture treasure
Feels grand

The surface: love of mind
But could then start
My wildest pleasure
Your eyes are tires
Feels grand