Swans are dead (long live Swans)

Que pena não ter ido ver ao concerto da última tour dos Swans no nosso país.

sowing and reaping

speak of thresholds

and blunt visions

of beauty

as you grasp by hand 

the siren's draft 

of unreason

the open hearts gush

the miscellaneous 

scents of death

surrounded 

by a world of war

where the ability to kill 

remains

with the passion's novelty,

through the beckoning 

of twilight

such 

choise of treason,

thus came 

coiled 

as an evil romance.

once satan's 

beauty,

a voice unheard

in heathen nights  

a weapon 

of your true light,

born dead  

(and now

dead again)

satan, 

watching you

from behind

in your desperate

human

procession 

to whom his eyes 

are new

all chariots 

of soul's damnation

out of sight - out of heart 

they say

pray a little more 

now 

for the bitter fiddle

sway

pray forever more 

for the rejoice

of staying

away

a silent thirst, 

to quench still 

always defying  

- towards 

the hungry lion's den

will you take 

your place there?

so much hate

to bind me into you

to purify

all this misery

inside me

it draws you

everyday,

scourged 

in your lands of east 

to surrender, 

to your scavenger 

your folded beast

emerging 

in a profound sound 

all sacred doors, 

to a short term 

salvations 

wild passionate 

evasions 

which streams 

in sin

ripping apart 

all this fallacious 

skin

those realms

now revealed

lord, tell me now

where it lies

all my humanity?

surrendered it was

to a remembrance of you

meaningless 

manifestations 

of existence.

let them pray 

now

pray to a long forgotten 

universe

now begotten

- love is the flaming dart 

that fuels all hate.