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Рыбалка и фидер - отчеты о рыбалке, рыболовные снасти, дневники и проч.

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Meshuggah - 1998 Chaosphere

Лейбл: Nuclear Blast
1. Concatenation
2. New Millenium Cyanide Christ?
3. Corridor Of Chameleons
4. Neurotica
5. The Mouth Licking What You've Bled
6. Sane
7. The Exquisite Machinery Of Torture
8. Elastic

 

1. Concatenation

[music:fredrik Thordendal; Lyric:tomas Haake]

A Stale Organic Cage. Incarceration. I'm In The Stranger: Me. (lost In Corporeal Inanity)
The User Of My Face; Beneath Its Guise I Rot. A Paradox In Terms. (i Am Now What I'm Not)
Interconnected, Fused. My Words Are Its Thoughts. I Now Share My Self With My Reflection.
Straining To Divide Our Twined Formation. Duality Within Singularity.

(i'm Forlorn In My Own Withering Soul, Racked By Continuous Waves Of Dissolution
My Gemini Mind The Creator Of The Undulation. I Strain To Untangle These Malignant Bonds,
To Become Again The One That I Was)

Coalescence Done, The Merging Complete, The Sentence Carried Out. (i'm Condemned For Eternity)
The Confluence, Our Interwound Flows; Surges Not To Be Fused. (now Combined, Intertwined)
In This Mental Cage We Absorb Our Selves. The Only Certainty Is My Suffering.
My Mind In Constant Pleas For An End To This Concatenation. A Struggle All In Vain, We're Both The Same.

(a Withering Soul Torn By The Attempts Of Regeneration. My Gemini Mind The Obstacle Of My Redemption.
I Strain To Elude The Face Of My Other Self. To Become Again The One That I Was)

Plug Me In, Reconnect Me To My Self. Plug Me In, Reconnect Me To My Soul.

Gone Are All My Hopes, All My Vain Illusions. Deceived I Dwell In Me. In The Core Of My Agony.
I Fade In This Duress. I'm Weakening. The One Who Claimed My Front Is Now The Claimant Of My Soul.

(a Withering Soul Torn By This Antipolar Mental Integration. My Divided Mind A System Split In Two Creations.
I Strain To Reach The Separation Tools, To Be Again The One That I Was)

Into The Core Of Self, The Neuro-axis, I Fade
Within The Fading Core Of Self I Am.....
Gone-bound, Lost, Away, Phased Out, Non-existing

Вверх

2. New Millenium Cyanide Christ?

[music:fredrik Thordendal, Mґrten Hagstrжm; Lyric:tomas Haake]

I'm A Carnal, Organic Anagram. Human Flesh Instead Of Written Letters.
I Rearrange My Pathetic Tissue. I Incise. I Replace. I'm Reformed.
I Eradicate The Fake Pre-present Me. Elevate Me To A Higher Human Form.
The Characters I Am, Made Into A Word Complete, Then I'll Be The New Norm.

Self Inflicted Fractures. I Replace My Bones With Bars;
Aluminum Bleeding Oxide; The Drug Of Gods Into My Pounding Veins

(a Human Puzzle For All To Scorn. No Face. No Back. Directionless.
My Scarred Edition I'll Display; The Organic Word For Nothingness)

My Receiving Eyes Exchanged With Fuses; Blindness Induced To Prevent Destruction.
Ceramic Blades Implanted Past My Ribs To Save Me From The Dues Of Inhalation.
I Tear My Worldly Useless Skin. Staples To Pin It Over My Ears.
Non-receptive Of Ungodly Sounds - I Disable The Audio-generators Of Fear.

Hexagonal Bolts To Fill My Mouth, Sharpened To Deplete The Creator Of All Violence;
Without Speech There Will Be No Deceit

(my Feet I Crush. The Flesh I Cut Away, So As To Not Produce The Sound Of Their Presence On Rotten Ground)

Baptized In Vitriolic Acid. A Final Touch. A Smoothing Of Features.
Completion Of The Greatest Art; To Cast The Godly Creatures.
Humans, Once Astray; Made Divine. Stripped Of Congenital Flaws.
We're Incandescent Revelations In A World Of Darkened Forms.

(confide In My New Age Dogma. Swallow The Indoctrination. You'll Come To Love It Here,
The Suicidal Atmosphere. Let Me Into Your Common Mind. I'll Plant My Thoughts Into Its Soil.
Walk Among Us Self-made Gods, Deified Through The Pains Of Self Torture)

Disciples, Come Join With Me To Save A Failed Humanity. Follow The God Of Cyanide Into The New Eternity.
Behold; A Sacrificial Rase A Cleansing Worshipping Of Pain.
The New Millenium Christ Here To Redeem All From Lies

(i've Come To Save You All. I've Come To Light Your Way)

Вверх

3. Corridor Of Chameleons

[music:fredrik Thordendal; Lyric:tomas Haake]

Corridor Of Chameleons

We're The Carriers Of A New Anomaly; Fold, Unfold. Bend, Shift Color.
Always Turning Our Backs To The Wind. Deaf To The Inner Voices Screaming.
Purpose, Profit, Act Only To Gain. Blistered Tounges From Licking Greedward.
Taste The Enemy. Throw Up Their Means. Swallow The Bits That Fit Your Needs.

Keep Your Eyes Searching In All Directions, Scanning For Opportunities
Off You Go. Begin Your Climb. Aim For The Topmost Twig Of Lies.

Put On A Shape To Pass Undisturbed. Pick A Color To Blend With Surroundings.
Choose A Voice Suiting, Appropriate For The Never Benignant Purpose.
Spin Your Eyes To Read The Court. Smoothen Your Path Before The Start
Even Out, Fill The Holes With The Toxic Clay Of Your Rotting Heart.

A Contagious Neuro-ego-disease. A Virus Sticking To Liars.
We're The Self-centered Fuel To Boost The New Strain Of Fire.
Adapting, Shifting, Lacking Opinion. Our Numbers Exceeding The Billions.
Everly Walking Among Ourselves Down The Corridor Of Chameleons.

Continue Through The Skein Of Boughs, Navigate To Keep You Straight On Track.
Make The Right Ramification-turns. Conceit Will Be Your Allied Guide.
Climb The Hierarchy Ladders Invisibly, Veiled By The Canvas Of Putrid Dreams.
Every Obstacle Surmountable To The Clouded Vision You've Conceived.

Scan The Wall Of Truth For Cracks. Your Prey: The Secrets Hiding Therein.
Feed Upon Its Nourishing Intestines To Bring You Forth In The "game"
With Every Single Step Taken On The Road Of Games Called Success,
There's A Fee For Every Lie. The Currency: Your Dissolving Integrity.
Will You Make It To The Top Of The Tree? Is The Fortune There To Be Found?
Chameleons Are A Short-lived Breed. Maybe Fate Will Find You Dead On The Ground.

(fate Will Tell.....)

Вверх

4. Neurotica

[music:mґrten Hagstrжm; Lyric:mґrten Hagstrжm]

Subdued And Repressed. A Son Of The Vortex In Faceless Progress, Coaxing, Tugging, Grinding. So Elevated So God.
Refit This Vessel Of Confusion To Bring The Eloquence Of The Mute.
Incorporate This Forfeit Cause, Assimilate And Fake It Mine.
I Bow My Head And Taste The Lies That I'm Fed, All To Claim My Reward.
Master And Servant. One For All And All For None. Ignorant To The Distant Hymns Of Chaos,
The Progressive Stand Before Me. Their Eyes Fixed In The Distance, Default To Conform To The New.

They Animate Me. In Confidence I Thrive. My Reign: Supremacy. I Speak No Word Unheard.
Re-motivate Me. I'm All There Is To Be. An Omnipotent Being So Complete In My Diversity.

Ripples Race Across My Eyes. Breaking Out In Acid Sweat. Wills Shrivel And Crack.
Disintegration Of My Inner Self. I Find The Substance Lost. A Shed Shell Of A Being Of Disgust.
Done Is The Cleansing. Complete Is The Surgery Of The Soul.

Step Inside And Taste The Shackling Thoughts That Devour All Confidence. Realizing I'm Lost.
Being No More Than A Mutt With A Fake Pedigree. Stillborn Soul Shaped And Molded.
I Can Live An Eternity In A Minute's Time. A Borrowed Talent Filled With Copied Goals.
The Carcass Of Hope Lies Dead Beneath The Fabric Of Dreams. Facing The Truth Within The Mirror Of Souls -
Ha Ha This Is What I've Become. Always Been In This Emancipated State. Submerged, Battered And Numb. Just A Mindscape Fit For Illusion To Make Fear Into Reign And Fulfillment Of Pain. Kneeling In Perm
The Minions Of The Inside Claim Me

Re-animate, Me Cause I Was Once Alive. Defeat Smears Out My Focus. Consciousness Subsides
Unmotivated. Beheld By Scorching Eyes. Infinity Stares Back At Me. The Surging Darkness Coils To Strike.

Вверх

5. The Mouth Licking What You've Bled

[music:fredrik Thordendal; Lyric:tomas Haake]

I'm The Shallow, The Superficial. I'm The Common Man. Faithless, Narrow Minded, Indifferent, Impassive.
A Sycophantic Leech. Tantamount To Disintegrity. I'm The Vulture Feeding On Malignancy.

I'm The Sin, The Lecherous Sneering At Prostration. I Wallow In Disease. I Rejoice At Degradation.
I Yawn At Misery. Spit At Others Happiness. An Advocate Of Manipulation. I Embrace The Sickening.

I'm The Lost. I'm Average. I'm Common. I'm Infection. I'm Human. I'm Common
A Worm Thriving In Seas Of Disgust. I'm Common. The Mouth Licking What You've Bled. I'm Common

I'm The Pampered Degenerate. I Indulge My Inclinations
The Only Words To My Attention Are Those That I My Self Create
Disorder. Chaos.

I Debar All Order, Repudiate All Purity. Infatuated By Contentment.
I Laugh At Lies. Come Behold The Sickness In My Common Human Eyes.

I'm The Greed. The Cynic. I'm The Indifferent Gaze.
Mendacity, Betrayal; This Is Not A Phase
Ebullient With Human Filth, Here I Am. Here I Stay.
Flourishing In Our Disgrace. Blessed Be The Human Way.

Вверх

6. Sane

[music:jens Kidman, Mґrten Hagstrжm; Lyric:tomas Haake]

Come And Hear My Twisted Lies, The Way I Bend And Falsify
A Master Of Deception, User Of An Untrue Smile
A Rapist Of The Truth, Adapting It To Fit My Cause
I'm The Human Lie, A Sad Composition Of All Things Vile

Come And Read My Tainted Lies. Lies.
Come See My Wretched, Tainted Mind

Bury, Cover Up, Repress. I Betray The People I "possess"
What Ever Enemy - I'll Disable With Mendacity
I Make My Way, Extend My Ground, I Clear My Future-path
When It Comes To Joys, Manipulation Is My Game Of Choice

How I Shine. I ...
The Perfect Freak. Confide In Me
Me... Believe In Me

My Intentions Soon You Will See
The Sway Of My Scheme, Imposed Upon All
Come Follow Me, My Puppets To Be,
I'll Attach My Strings, Manipulation Begins

Sane Me
Sane Me
Sane Me
Sane Me

I'm The Way, I'm The Truth
Gather With Me, I'm The Future Guide

Sane Me
Sane Me
Sane Me
Sane Me

Gather With Me, Join My Ministry
I'm The Way, The Future Guide
I'm The Self-acclaimed God Of Wicked Games
Sinister, Repugnant Bringer Of Pain

Вверх

7. The Exquisite Machinery Of Torture

[music:fredrik Thordendal, Tomas Haake; Lyric:tomas Haake]

A Sustained Static Gaze, Oblivious To Surroundings.
Empty, Strained, Unmoving Eyes; Inverted, Paralyzed
A Burning Mass Of Emotions Denied, Enraged By Years Of Silencing.
An Accumulation Of Feelings Suppressed, Returning To Devour.
Bright Rays Of Chaos, Generated By Subconsciousness.
Retribution By Own Thoughts; Twisting The Mind Into Fits
Fuelled With Pains Unveiled. Burning With Contamination.
Set Afire By Disowned Self-lies; They Penetrate The Eyes.

I... Am I The Next? Self Inflicted Overload.
Thoughts Returning To Think Me Away.
I... Will I Be Reprieved?
Or Am I Just Awaiting
The Sentence Of My Exquisite,
Internal Machinery Of Torture

The Turmoil Arises, From The Innermost Core Of Denial.
Shining Streams Of Putrefaction, Reflugent With Disease -
In Outward Motion To Redress The Balance By Retaliation.
A Terminal Journey To Relieve Cognition Of Ability
Mind Satalite, By Rejected Senses And Emotions.
Tearing Flames, Born In Mind; Creations Of Self Deception.
Strained, Not To Lose The Grip -
Humans Locked In The New Disease.
A Light By Eyes Unseen Has Come To Burn Us Clean.

I... Am I The Next? Self Inflicted Overload.
Thoughts Returning To Think Me Away.
I... Will I Be Reprieved,
Or Am I Just Awaiting
The Sentence Of My Exquisite,
Internal Machinery

[solo]

I Sense; The Violent Facilities
Discorporated By The Light
All My Pleas; Denied
By My Psycho-dentical Enemy
The Inner Light Of Me
I'm Dead
My Shit Slowly Dissovates
Shadows No Longer Gifts
From This Lifeless Form
That I've Become

Consciousness Fails The Grip. Substance Now Decreasing
Amorphous. Without Shape - I'm Vanishing;
Dematerialized
My Own Corrosive Thoughts - Probes Armed With Acid
Tools
Disintegrated, I'm Bleached Out Of Reality
Scattered Bits Internally; My Last Transparent
Remains;
Floating Inanimate Objects; Spinning Into My Soul
Defeated By My Contents. Tables Turned, I'm A Thought
Repressed
I'm Swallowed Into Myself. Destination; Nothingness

I... Am I The Next? Self Inflicted Overload
Thoughts Returning To Think Me Away
I... Will I Be Reprieved
Or Am I Just Awaiting The Sentence Of My Exquisite,
Internal Machinery
I... I've Been The Next. My Self Inflicted Overload,
My Neglected Thoughts Have Thought Me Undone.
I... I Was Never Reprieved
Now I Know The Sentence Of My Exquisite,
Internal Machinery Of Torture

Вверх

8. Elastic

[music:mґrten Hagstrжm; Lyric:tomas Haake]

Assembled From Dead Incompatible Pieces; Livid Fragments Regenerated.
Decomposing Bits Of Organic Matter, Brought To Life, Revived.
A Fluid, Limbless, Sickening Shape, A Faltering Semi-floating Cluster.
Its Sole Purpose Of Creation; To Burst The Imagination Blood Surge.

Defying The Mould Of Human Flesh. Smashing The Wall Of Beliefs.
A Sight To Bring Insanity To All Dimensional Reality.

Carved From Thoughts Unthought Into A Graphic, Visible Delusion Of Life.
A Twisted Display Of Dehumanized Features, By Cells Reflected, Refracted.
A Frantic Dancing Of Particles, In Pathetic Attempt At Rendering Flesh;
Swirling To Project The Illusion Of Shape, Form, Dimension And Mass.

(eyes Not Made For Watching. Thousand Watt Obsidian Bulbs;
Reflective, Obversed. The Only View Is The Barren Self)

A Walking Translucent Entity. Void, Suspended. Inviolate By Rules, All Standards Of Existence.
An Electrified Vapor-cloud. A Skein Of Bone And Tissue.
An Atrocity, A Liquid Form Unshaped To The Organic Norm.

A Mind Not Filled With Thoughts, But A Random Flickering Static.
A Soulless Creature Un-alive; I'm The Un-human Elastic.

Вверх

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None 1994
Contradictions Collapse 1991

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