The Past Is like a Funeral

Sometimes when I visit the landscapes of the shadows Something that recalls the grave Hides in the hellish depths and awaits When I dream, it peeks into empty goblet (And) becomes the wine of ecstasy and licentiousness I know the one in a flock said: "Watch out, watch out" But I will not go away till I taste the sweetness of your body No matter it poisons and causes death The past is like an eternal funeral Years, thousands of them, I rotted in a monastic cell I resembled a stone, hiding my murderous self in silence and fear I lasted in the infinity of meditations and contemplations Waiting for the deserved dream, there on the holy land And its taste and coldness I remember Bare-foot digging my own pit I was kissing it as if the sweetest lover and begged But was the sand to become my salvation Or worms the people on the court of light The past reeks of an oak coffin, so wet and old Burning dirty claws in the wooden eyes of Jehovah I killed mercy, spitting on the laws of god I celebrated the birth of power I fell in love with freedom and the beast And I spat out the Antichrist from my morbid womb In order to give life to divine grain And concentrate the birth of human tragedy and destruction I envisaged myself as a great magician Although they called Armageddon the whore Today I celebrate my birth, though I am elder than the world I am elder than the world The past only sometimes is like the sand That the grave-digger throws in your eyes