In Flames The Jester Race

Rush faster on the oneway lane the answers so silent Rusty gods in their machinemind armours grind our souls in the millstone of time the deathbed harvest is a dead man s banquet of mold ridden bread and black, poisoned wine Here we step so silent Here we blooded trace the Jester Race Calling our to the gathered masses their answers so silent Here we Embracing the tools of the neowolf age that speak of silence and silence alone Offering the tokens, the reliced idols to the heirs of the newly raped ground inferior even to the transparent winds lesser in the motion and sound Here we There is no trace of me in their altered blueprints of life Gaia impaled on their horns and lances the fumes from her body give chase as the strong of blind men savour the scent, dreamdead from Prozac and hate epilogue Sunwind strokes the ElectroHeart, ignition roars through the corridors, stream launching the binary vessels