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Loudblast lyrics

Album: Sublime Dementia [1993]

Tracks5
 01  Presumption
 02  Wisdom (Farther On)
 03  Turn The Scales
 04  Sublime Dementia
 05  My Last Journey
all Loudblast lyrics



Presumption
Art is rarely truth
In the realm of mankind
Some are better than others
This world has become schizophrenic

Man your morals will destroy you

What an insane balance
What for unconsciousness
And for what life
Presumption of survival
Unconsciousness the only means of life
Presumption of survival

Morals make man
Modest and tractable
Man is the best
Domestic animal
Your measure is feeble
Your ideals are weak

Man your morals will destroy you

What an insane balance
What for unconsciousness
And for what life
Presumption of survival
Half-tint delight
Presumption of survival

No
You're not free
Hierarchy of taboos overcomes you
Man your morals will destroy your world

Escape
Escape idolatry of the excessive
Break the windows that prevent you to breathe
And jump outside into open-air
Lose your virtue
Escape this cesspoolback to top
Wisdom (Farther On)
Answers to your questions lie elsewhere
Get on with it
Must we overcome or repress impulses to be wise
Or on the contrary must we let those impulses
Rule over us

Knowing its bounds, knowledge of your own
Acting on intuition
First I want to be accessory to my own
Are my impulses the image of my own feelings

Self assurance... thrills
To push back the limits
To size up death... perils of death
Above all no hesitation
Let your soul go where it may
Listening to alternatives
Not forgetting anything, nothing and going farther

Knowing its bounds, knowledge of your own
Acting on intuition
First I want to be accessory to my own
Are my impulses
The image of my own feelings
Of my own feelings

Self assurance... thrills
To push back the limits
To size up death... perils of death
Above all no destination

Knowing its bounds, knowledge of your own
Acting on intuition
First I want to be accessory to my own
Are my impulses the image of my own feelings

Wisdom farther on... farther onback to top
Turn The Scales
We spend our time, so busy
We strive for perfection

But the perfection of common generosity
On the way to chaos

There's a cover of wisdom
Which coats you
Turn the scales
There's a clone of wisdom
Which blind you
Who decides?
Turn the scales

We legislate, we define
We sanction
Not for suffering and sinking
On the way to chaos

There's a cover of wisdom
Which coats you
Turn the scales
There's a clone of wisdom
Which blinds you
Who decides?
Turn the scales

We test your conscience
We exploit your world
The truth is hidden
When is it time for essential satisfaction?

Where is desire?
Where is pleasure?

There's a cover of wisdom, which coats you
Turn the scales
There's a clone of wisdom, which blinds you
Turn the scalesback to top
Sublime Dementia
A still and peaceful bliss, a glorious resignation
Any contradiction fades away
Any philosophical problem becomes clear, or so it seems
For a long time you haven't been in control
But you're not afflicted by it anymore
Mind absorbed in meditation of an ideal virtue, an ideal charity
And ideal genius

You naively abandon yourself
To your triumphant spiritual orgy
When will we seek happiness?
Hoarse and deep sighs leave your chest as though your former
Body couldn't stand
The desires and the quickness of your new soul
A miasma mischievously clouds your brain soon you will laugh
At your madness
But you can not dismiss it, for your will

Has no more strength
And can not rule your faculties anymore
When will we seek happiness?

Appaling marriage of a man to himself
Because proportions of time and being are completely upset
By multitude and intensity of feelings and ideas
Appalling marriage of a man to himself
Sublime dementia

A human's fanatic lust for any substance
Which exalts his personality
Proves his magnitude

He always aims at exciting his expectations
And at rising to the infinite

Appalling marriage of a man to himself
Because proportions of time and being are completely upset
By multitude and intensity of feelings and ideas
Appalling marriage of a man to himself
Sublime dementiaback to top
My Last Journey
Why do we never see the end of the tunnel?
The purity of light seems impossible to reach

This feeling of weightlessness, so oppressive
At once so light... fleshless
At once alone... and legions
Because here illusions can't exist
No need to hold your own
Now good and evil are one
No need to hold your own

Why do we never see the end of the tunnel?
The purity of light seems impossible to reach

Present, future, so oppressive
Who will grasp my hand?
So I don't sink in the abstruse mist of this last
Travel, future, so oppressive
Why must we die to find truth?
Why are human pains only steps, not even purgatory?

Why do we never see the end of the tunnel?
The purity of light seems impossible to reach

No need to lie to yourself
The imaginary creates no senses
No need to lie to yourself
Let serenity flood your body

Because here illusions can't exist
No need to hold your own
Now good and evil are one
No need to hold your own
Different emoitions generate the same feelings
Surpassing ourselves
With cognition of the absolute
With the image of my carnal routeback to top
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