It feels at may five, eighteen ninety seven Overcast sky paint your wine heaven Is "golden mediasch", whispering blurred reflections Of what you want to believe, but you can't feel
There is no life in this body You're nothing lifeless, soulless Hated, feared and dead to all the world that you loved That, ironically, you killed to immortalize your living
That's transilvania suicide machine Walking quickly and painlessly Your transilvania suicide machine Adorable illusion of necessity
The paralyzing gaze scans your bowels As much as smiling you pretend You may see your inner monster You've worked hard to live with him
But the disappointment is suffocating you Even if you do not breathe or dream The desire is greater than all this consumed Dry throat, and you just can't scream
That's transilvania suicide machine Walking quickly and painlessly Your transilvania suicide machine Adorable illusion of necessity
That's transilvania suicide machine Walking quickly and painlessly Your transilvania suicide machine Adorable illusion of necessity
Nothing No life, no soul Just hated Just go
You loved You killed
Adorable illusion of culpability!
You loved You killed
Transilvania suicide machine
Transilvania suicide machine
Transilvania suicide machine
Compositores: Nicholas Reis Serafim Andre, Gabriel Greselle Humphreys Mendes (Gabriel Mendes), Lorenzo Flammia Travaglia (Lorenzo Flammia), Victor Diaz Fuentes (Bito) ECAD: Obra #23035974 Fonograma #18858427