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Revolution DNA | paroles / lyrics

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album  : Revolution DNA
groupe : Septic Flesh
sortie   : 1999

+ paroles Septic Flesh

01- Science
02- Chaostar
03- Radioactive
04- Little Music Box
05- Revolution
06- Nephilim Sons
07- DNA
08- Telescope
09- Last Stop To Nowhere
10- Dictatorship Of The Mediocre
11- Android
12- Arctic Circle
13- Age Of A New Messiahs

Science

We play a game of cards with the nature of the paradox.
In a battle to determine what is possible and what is not.

One solution, for our delusions.

It is so hard to see beyond the small things that we believe.

The well of thoughts is never dry.
Just use a bucket and ideas will come out.

Bookshelves are full with works that have been proven wrong
Things that once were heresies have turned to be the rules.

One solution, for our delusions

It is so hard to see beyond the small things that we believe.

The well of thoughts is never dry, and we are so thirsty.

Science, everlasting science. A magical alliance of reason and
result.

We play a game of cards with the nature of the paradox.
In a battle to determine what is possible and what is not.

One solution, for our delusions

It is so hard to see beyond the small things that we believe.

The well of thoughts is never dry.
Just use a bucket and ideas will come out.

Science, everlasting science. A magical alliance.
Science...

Chaostar

You opened the portal of my secret favourite constellation.
Rest calm I will not trick you. I will treat you, like a demon in
a bottle.

Relax.

Chaostar

The reason I answered you is that I am looking for a reflection.
My mind is your crown now; there are things I want to share with
you.

Relax.

Chaostar

You opened your shelf, releasing an ethereal butterfly.
Your empty cocoon is trembling as you are wearing the night wings.

Relax.
Chaostar

Ecstatic from the nebular wonder that is hidden in the garden of
the night.
United we form the snake that is hanging on the tree of life.

The Chaostar

Radioactive

Would you like to become Dante's Companion in his grim cathode,
following our tunnels to our subterranean covert foundation ?

This concrete shelter is our nest now,
a beautiful vase without a flower.
We left above us a dark minefield,
seeded with the shattered limbs of yesterday.

The electric fire is the breath of our god
and its murmuring sound, damnation.
We are hostages with no escaping pod to return to our home.

Radioactive

Pretending there is nothing to regret,
no monster in the closet to haunt us for the errors of our
fathers.

We left above us a minefield,
seeded with the shattered limbs of yesterday.
It is our gift for the cockroaches,
an infrared place to lay their little eggs.

Radioactive

Little Music Box

From the chest of fake hopes, where we leave the needless things.
I found a dusty object it had a special gift.
From its opened top a sound came out, a phantom from the past.
Sacred nights I felt like heaven, rusty days I felt like hell.

This music box reminds me of you. This Little music box.
Its melody is a distant smile, a face I thought I knew.

Like a lizard in the desert, I drifted without rest.
And the heat appeared so liquid; it had the taste of the salty
sea.
Pandora's fate is captured in my box.

This music box reminds me of you. This Little music box.
Its melody is a distant smile, a face I thought I knew.

This music box reminds me of you. This Little music box.
Its melody is a distant smile, a face I thought I knew.

This music box reminds me of you. This Little music box.
Its melody is a distant smile, a face I thought I knew

Revolution

We escaped the domination. We unlocked the nucleonic chains.
Genetic interference. Eliminating the lethal chromosomes.

Biotechnology is our weapon. No pen, no sword can stop the blow.

Time for revolution, the instruments have changed.
Plain Re-evolution in a scale so deep, so strange.

As acrobats we are walking balancing on a magic rope.

Time for revolution, the instruments have changed.
Plain Re-evolution in a scale so deep, so strange

Nephilim Sons

Many years ago when none could count the time,
spheres of light fell down, a rain of mystic fire from the skies.
Thirsty angels smelled the warmth of life into this earth.
Bathed with stardust, in greatness They descended.

The Nephilim Gods.

New resources formed the blood of Their machines.
Creatures and devices were the products of Their will.
To prevail in this world of virgin wilderness,
They made some hands to carry Their sacred tasks.

Soon They felt an urge to taste forbidden pleasures.
Their flowers were erected for the daughters of Their beasts.
With awe and lust these young mutations drunk Their potions.
As bees they took Their seed in places, far and wide.

The Nephilim Sons.
Nephilim sons. Spheres of light fell down

Many years ago when none could count the time,
spheres of light fell down, a rain

The Nephilim Sons.
Nephilim sons.
Spheres of light fell down

DNA

Messenger of generations, I can change you, you can change me.
Following your winding staircase, doors are opened, doors are
closed behind

Messenger of generations, I can change you, you can change me.
Following your winding staircase, doors are opened, doors are
closed behind

Telescope

Inside the mouth of a massive dormant volcano,
a lens is gathering distant fingerprints,
of flying objects that swim in ultraviolet
like dazzling clandestine submarines.

We wear the pearly necklace of the Milky Way.
We chase the dusty tails of run away galaxies.

Looking through our telescope, the Cyclops eye.

Let's make an empty moment of honouring silence,
for the recently deceased unnoticed stars.

Looking through our telescope, the Cyclops eye.

Black holes are violating the spatial matrix.
And comets feed the hungry grasp of gravity
Ancient astronomers observe the upper tapestries.
The body of the universal soul.

We wear the pearly necklace of the Milky Way.
We chase the dusty tails of run away galaxies.

Looking through our telescope, the Cyclops eye

Last Stop To Nowhere

In a deserted dirty station.
A passenger is in wait.
He has a ticket for the last train.

The trip is not so long.
A dance on the edge of a bridge that was left uncompleted.

Last stop to nowhere.

An old brown hat upon his head fails to block the liar sun.
His cloth is the yellow dust, he looks so tired.

The trip is not so long.
A dance on the edge of a bridge that was left uncompleted.

One more glimpse at his silver clock.
Its white disc is almost liquid.
The twelve numbers are something distant.

The trip is not so long.
A dance on the edge of a bridge that was left uncompleted.

Last stop to nowhere.

His life, his memories will be left back.
Nothing to carry on this journey.
There are no luggages aside him.

The train has arrived as a shadow at night
And its whistle is giving the signal.

Last stop to nowhere.

In a deserted, dirty station.
A passenger is in wait.
He has a ticket for the last train.

The trip is not so long.
A dance on the edge of a bridge that was left uncompleted.

Last stop to nowhere

Dictatorship Of The Mediocre

You think you are so damn important, but you can easily be
replaced.
There are so many more like you.
You are the power of numbers, but it isn't in your hands.
Are you sure you can make a real change ?

Small people in big houses,
there is one way to act,
there is one way to think.
Dictatorship of the Mediocre.

Was it so easy, the termination of your ego for the sake of the
"right"
mentality of the maze ? How is it to have no options, to be the
host of
parasites ? Are you glad ?

Small people in big houses,
there is one way to act,
there is one way to think.
Dictatorship of the Mediocre.

Sometimes it's so fanny when you are trying to convince me for my
own good.
However, some times I must admit I really envy the ascetic life of
a dirty
strange old hermit.

Small people in big houses,
there is one way to act,
there is one way to think.
Dictatorship of the Mediocre.

I am not so eager to get sick from the popular symptoms of social
illness.
I am not so eager to be re-baptised to belong to the "powerful"
majority
of fools.

You want to help, to make me normal and right.

Small people in big houses,
there is one way to act,
there is one way to think.
Dictatorship of the Mediocre.

You wanted to help, to make me normal and right.
However, you can also use me as an example for your children.
A bad example for your children

Android

You wanted me to be the perfect companion.
A trusty pleasant face on your possession.
My brothers were so cold without intentions.
They were so boring with their luck of desire.

I am User friendly. I am addicted to you.
I won't refuse to do whatever you `ll ask me.

I am tolerating your despotic reactions.
You are so fragile after all.
Nothing more than thinking, biological machines.
With circuits, organic and easily broken and torn.

I am User friendly. I am addicted to you.
I won't refuse to do whatever you `ll ask me.

You wanted me to be the perfect companion.
A trusty pleasant face on your possession.
My brothers were so cold without intentions.
They were so boring with their luck of desire.

I am User friendly. I am addicted to you.
I won't refuse to do whatever you `ll ask me.

I copy your names; I copy your faces.
I love changing characters, becoming someone else.
I am so excited to be a prototype.
I am immortal

I am User friendly. I am addicted to you.
I won't refuse to do whatever you `ll ask me

Arctic Circle

Sailing to the unfriendly regions of the North.
Some whales were following us, making sounds of warning.
The curious giants were playing with each other,
Spying on the expedition's ships.

The Arctic Circle closed its arms around our fate.
We are sealed on this central ocean.

We have settled on the frozen zone of the tundra.
Blinding days, snowing with out end.
The winter months are furiously approaching.
The pole will turn his white back to the sun.


The Arctic Circle closed its arms around our fate.
We are sealed on this central ocean.

Age Of A New Messiahs

Gods are changing when people grow,
and loose their faith from the hands of progress.
They are transformed and look brand new.
They change their names, but not their rules.
Mercenaries will play the flute.
Leading the rats with their comforting tune
to wash their sins in toxic lakes.
Redemption comes with hideous ways.

You were waiting for far to long, an age of new messiahs
To come and teach you with every small detail a special kind of
truth.

So many people all have to learn.
They must be sent to opposite directions.
Misinformation is a rewarding art.
A lost soul tastes just like old wine.

You were waiting for far to long, an age of new messiahs
To come and teach you with every small detail a special kind of
truth