Icon Of Coil

mutilated images
it feels the same look the some
pointing at you again
can't help myself asking you how?
where is our path?
it's not phase, it will come back again, as soon as you forget,
what is your excuse?
the mind is a lack of existence
in time we'll heal all open wounds
still we'll remain the puppeteers
open up the doors, lock them up behind us
blended by the winter-light as the worlds collide
we'll feed the storm again, beauty stole my sight
we'll fell into the same, cycling game again
it's not a phase, bring this world to an end, it's not a phase
as the fracture strife your eye, we enjoy our masquerade
through the days of convicted grief, the action slowly fades,
as the countdown reach the end and shimmering lights starts to burn,
we still remain the puppeteers, it's too late to make a turn
we'll feed the storm again, beauty stole my sight
we'll fell into the same, cycling game again
it's not a phase, bring this world to an end, it's not a phase