Life Is a Lie Pensamentos de um Assassino Serial, Comendo tekst piosenki i tłumaczenie. Posłuchaj MP3 i obejrzyj teledysk z Youtube oraz sprawdź chwyty.
Tekst piosenki
THOUGHTS OF A SERIAL KILLER, EATING
It´s something that simply happens. They have tried to explain me, to conceptualize, to fit me in some law of human being perversity or in some useless psychoanalysis theory. What I only know is that, from time to time, people as well as I appear, assassins wanting to tear the veil of reality. It is all I know. That is everything I know. / Don´t cry, understand it isn`t personal. My spirit is free, beyond the Good and Evil I kill those faggots with shinning teeth and bourgeois sluts dressed in elegant dresses. / I kill fat and healthful children, seeds of new privileged cruel classes. / Social Columns are in my menu where I search full of thirst my new plates / To prove and to feel their rotten flavor.
COMMENTARY: That was out of control. Everything used to become confuse. I just used to feel an overwhelming furor which needed to be distributed otherwise (I am sure of this) I would go mad. Look: I never wanted this to me. I just used to do that without caring about the consequences of my actions. Everything was so simple, certain, mathematically fast as a turn of key in the lock - it was all about it, opening doors. I was doing anything but opening doors, showing there are lotsa things they don´t wanna let us touch, nor see, nor feel. My obstinated thoughts were nonstop. So then I came to the conclusion that people are so insensible to everything that makes me disgraced. This wasn´t everything. They made their weak bodies and infantile minds to get used to stupidity. Well, I didn´t born and suffered in this dirty place for twenty three years just to kneel afterall in front of an image of happiness and smile like a retarded. No. This is disgusting. So then, moved by a vigorous wish for revenge, I´ve risen myself stopping to be faithful to everything unless to my own self. There´s no way to moderate my behaviour: I go to the places where I know I am going to find the slag and just kill whoever appears in front of me. I have nothing to hide from you. I have no reasons to keep on standing you. I shouldn´t crave a knife in them? For me, it´s like they were dead already. And it´s just impossible to steal life from corpses! I was just delivering them to the grave.
PENSAMENTOS DE UM ASSASSINO SERIAL, COMENDO
É algo que simplesmente acontece . Tentaram me explicar, contabilizar, enquadrar-me em alguma lei da perversidade humana ou em alguma teoria psicanalítica inútil. Só o que sei é que, de tempos em tempos, surgem pessoas assim como eu, assassinos querendo rasgar o véu da realidade. É só o que sei. Isto é tudo que eu sei. / Não chore, entenda não é pessoal. Meu espírito é livre , além do Bem e do Mal / Eu mato frescos de dentes brilhantes e putas burguesas em vestidos elegantes / Eu mato crianças gorda e saudáveis, sementes de novas elites sanguinárias / Colunas sociais são o meu cardápio onde busco sedento meus novos pratos / Para provar e sentir o seu podre sabor
COMENTÁRIOS: Era incontrolável. Tudo tornava-se confuso. Apenas sentia um furor angustiante que precisava ser canalizado pois de outra maneira (tenho certeza) eu enlouqueceria. Veja : nunca quis isso para mim. Apenas fazia sem me importar minimamente com as conseqüências de minhas ações. Tudo era simples, certeiro, matematicamente rápido como um giro de chave na fechadura - tratava-se disso, de abrir portas. Eu nada mais fazia do que abrir portas , mostrando que existem muitas coisas que não querem nos deixar tocar, nem ver, nem sentir. Meu pensamento obstinado não cessava. Conclui então que as pessoas estão insensíveis para tudo que me faz desgraçado. Isto era tudo. Acostumaram seus corpos fracos e mentes infantis a estupidez. Ora, eu não nasci e sofri nesta terra imunda por 23 anos apenas para depois ajoelhar-me frente a qualquer imagem de felicidade e sorrir como um retardado. Não. Isto é desprezível. E então , movido por um vigoroso desejo de vingança, levantei-me deixando de ser fiel a tudo menos a mim mesmo. Não há como moderar meu comportamento : vou nos lugares aonde sei que vou encontrar a escória e simplesmente mato quem estiver na minha frente. Não tenho o que esconder de você. Faltam-me motivos para continuar suportando-os. Por que eu não deveria cravar uma faca neles ? Para mim, é como se estivessem mortos. E não se tira vida de cadáveres. Eu estava apenas os enviando para as sepulturas.
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