Tongues

<br>Music: Henriksson, Johansson, Sundin<br>Words: Sundin<br>Tongues, lost in me<br>yours be the sharp and the vile<br>Glide neath my skin<br>storm through my nerves<br>I bury the normal years<br>hours in the earth<br>couldn`t exorcise these searing, peaking tongues<br>Immune you say<br>yet venom strikes in strangest guises<br>as the viper in our eyes<br>Tongue, throat, tongue<br>slayer of the word and stealer of vision<br>A monumental reign of terrors<br>throats slit up to stain the target<br>We`re food for the hounds of trauma,<br>prey to the crows of stress<br>No power left to retrieve my stolen language<br>filtered through the illiterate fingers of death<br>Flies<br>let sickness be poured<br>from the cupped hands of bedlam<br>On account of their brightness<br>I made friends with the word and the moon<br>went with the tide and left for the sound<br>of dead instruments thrown out of tune<br>The red square patterns, dragonrise and<br>evenclaw<br>decaying from pandemonic symmetry<br>Let ring<br>a dissonant note in the music of the spheres<br>the streak of promise in the nuclear sky<br>These whipping black tongues<br>aching to lick me back to life<br>to inject their thruts within me