Ich bin nicht nur eine Farbe
Sondern letztlich Siebzehn und Drei
als elfte Moglichkeit zu sterben

Eine Zeit ist zu kurz aber niemals langer
darum la?t mich meine Schulter begraben
und alle Finger einzeln auskleiden
Dann kann ich das schwarze Loch leugnen
und tief in gefaltete Keuschheit einblicken

Beim nachsten Mal lauschen wir deinem Blut
und ergeben uns in die Sunde meiner strangulierten Sprotte
Halbierte Uhren lachen lautlos in deiner Nahe
und ubelgelaute Versuchung trubt frucht'gen Suizid
Mein Sattel rutscht morgen nicht mehr weiter
und 1955 sterben die Toten in infernalischem Vergessen
Meiner letzten Domane
Dennoch erobern wir nicht, wie Erinnyen auf Seite Zwei
sondern erschleichen unsere unbeseelte Natur
In dreifaltigem Clairobscur

Liebkosener Wahn Bewirkt zuweilen eine besondere Gegenwart
welche sich wie zu tief gesunkenes Blut in Rasierklingen verhalt
und somit unser Brustloses Gluhen im Bestiarium widerhallen la?t

Als meine vergifteten Schatten im Zodiakallicht entzweibrachen
und nur ein weiterer Tod den verkampften Geruchen mi?fiel
Erschrak eine gehornte Klinge in der Vollendung animalischer Lust
und der Verkasung neue Glieder
Schmuckten sich grobem Gewande
Bacchanten erklommen eisige Schlunde
doch gebaren die zarte Verdammnis nicht
Notzucht erblindet in oviparer Todessehnsucht
und das Nein gegen Gott & Luzifer is erdacht
Ein ruchloser Zwang erfordet willkurliche Gefahr,
wenn die Totenklage einer glucklos verschiedenen Maid
blaulich Anarchie uber die Pforten der nackten Begierde traufelt
Um in uralten Anreicherung des Siedepunktes mein Leben zu vergeben,
wird der blasphemische Ursprung aller Grabfusser zum Untergang gereichen

[Poem by Bartsch]

[English Translation: Devilcrazy God Thirteen]

I am not only a color
but lately 17 and 3
As the 11th will eventually die.

Time is brief and never longer
therefore I allow my shoulder to bury
and all my fingers line one by one
Then I can deny the black hole
and deeply fold in a chasity of insights

Next time we listen to your blood
and it results in the sin of my strangled sprat
as half watch the loud pitch laugh in your vicinity
And the evily humored temptation tarnish fruit-bearing Suicide
My saddle will skid no further into tomorrow
And in 1955 the dead will die in the infernal oblivion
of my own domain
However, we won't conquer like Erinnyen in page two
but rather stalk our soulless nature
in 3 shades of grey

To Caress a delusion sometimes causes a peculiar presence
which behaves how a deeply sunken razor would sound in blood
and consequently our echos let a glow in the breastless Bestiarium.

As my poisoned Shadows broke in two from the Zodiacal Light
and only further a displeased death of the struggling odoring
Shock of a horned blade in the perfection of Animalistic Lust
Decorating itself in a disgusting Vesture
Bacchanten Climbed Icy Abysses
yet, it won't Bring Forth the tender damnation
Necessity to breed is blinded by the Oviparious yearn for death.
And those not against God & Lucifer are suspicious
A dissolute force highhandedly requires danger
When Death Rings for several luckless Maids
Bluish Anarchy will instill over the Gates of Naked lust
Only an elder enrichment of the boiling-points to forgive my life
Will the Blasphemic Origin contribute to all the Graven Feet of the downfall.


Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings, edited by sokorny

Teufelverrückt Gottdreizehn song meanings
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    No comments? really?

    LoreMaster0281on March 30, 2022   Link

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