Confronting The Dead Lyrics

Trip in the land of sorrow
Where you can breathe the infection in the air
Aeriform sick maggots devouring your trachea
Pulling in your internal deeps
The dirty seeds of hate

The hopes of the young
More productive than the senselessness of the dead
Calculating every single particular
Also ready to face the worst
Because of a living flame inside

Millions of steps – billions of dazzling eyes
And just one motherfucker

You won't cave out nothing but a shit
In the biggest internal dung heap
Clapping of hundreds of hands
We just pose for the dead

The gun of the mere human justice
Cold iron punishing a demented guy
Pissing in front of a wall
Welcome to the land of the degrade
My piss will be your baptism, your benediction
If living between crime, shit, and syphilic whores
(Sad, cheap objects between human rejections)
Is the base of your own dignity
The sun – the sea
Are the same in every part of the planet
You've nothing but yourselves
But you choose to be dead-dead-dead

Never fight with a stupid: you'll descend to his same level
And be defeated because of his experience

Dedication – attitude – presence
Useless gifts in the lands of sorrow
Where's just impossible, the base to try to organize something
Obviously, something's not a crime – hearing millions of ghost clapping hands
Looking for the skull of a living "ghost" man
We just pose for the dead

We're just posing for the dead...
We pose for the dead
We're posing for the dead... for the dead!