The kings of four

All this time I searched for regal company

The four horsmen of the apocalypse in a dream

When the hips of the prodigal dutchman burst

I'l be transformed into a pyre

And the sea will futile bang on the cliffs

And the wind will futile demonstrate its strength

And the moon will futile fall to the earth

And the books were written futile

Mother

I was always a foreigner you know

A scoundrel inside and a devil to the eye

Born to judge the impermissible

Born to be absolved in a different way

Then when the cards are dealt wildly

Then where there's no hope

Then when rationality is humiliated

Then when you remain and die

(crazy

Must be crazy

But for any one who calls me

I'm not here)

Father

Amongst us

Afterwards the flood

Anyway

You recall the sensation on your own

Selling souls for a first full of illusions

Father

My compliments

You have no faults

And

Yet there's something crude about your voice

Honey

And cheap the result of unfathomable hate

Frustration spreads like a stench

Like a commandment

I said

My god