Tema: Zyklon - Tekstovi Pesama

Subtle Manipulation

Subtle manipulation, it all comes down to accommodation
Integrity of belief, integrity of behaviour
You reckon they are your saviour?

A generation of no return, howling, it becomes eternity
In a brief history of time
Does it at any rate indicate your maturity?

Disown the disorder; what about your past?
Negate and agitate; did you hope it would last?
Mind-control terminology at any level
Be sure they'll disconnect the rebel

Did you comprehend the vast chain of being?
Did you reach the inner (other)-worldly council?
Draw into yourself all the sensation
And see if it is your collective nation

Subtle manipulation, it all comes down to accommodation
Integrity of belief, integrity of behaviour
You reckon they are your saviour?

Psyklon Aeon


Congregation unity; faint as your ideology
Concentrate all in sterility
Morals runs riot in an endless variety
Of fragmentary post-solidarity

Never share the effort, symmetry in lines
Will the Providence ever grace you from all the lies?
Dishonour any corruption, favour only redemption
Voluntary subordination, engage in contemplation

You base it all on hierarchy
No wonder it'll turn into fucking anarchy
Detachment of continuity
Revolving around an ever growing susceptibility

Heading towards the Psyklon-Aeon
The last analysis will forever be perishable
That's how we would execute any cosmological society
On behalf of further reliability

This is all what your life is worth
You better pray it'll be short

Storm Detonation

Manifestation of the Storm Detonation.
Abandonment, renunciation, nuclear abrasion.
Maximum reality, ultimate reality.
What do you long for, Doomsday or Alienation?

The first and the last of global warnings,
as in withered ill-willed spirit.
Psychic dweller,
fearing the lies that surround you like a mental grip.

Aborticide as altruistic moral.
Backflashes from a past that once was,
memories from another day.
A depleted human race.
An echo that reflects and consolidates the super-humaneous will.
Will to Power,
Call to Power.

Utopian abattoir, a derisive reality.
Clouds, embracing the highland of earth,
as shadows from another time,
predicting the depredations of Terra Mater.

Tell the tale of a grand magnificent new world.
Tell the tale of a thousand years.
Tell the tale of the Storm Detonation,
manifested in every fatalistic soul,
asking if you want Doomsday or Alienation

Skinned & Endangered


Pictures in motion
Full-on enslavement
A world of corrosion
No real fundament
Swallow everything
Ask now man
Digest and consume
A liar in costume
Shocking and gross
Real annihilation
Sorry for your loss
Cheap rotten animation
Portray the living
I fool no one
Only fucking observe
Just don't bow down
Skinning culture alive
Living on a lie
Endangered, still breathing
Only parasites breeding