Enslavement of Beauty Megalomania DAINTY DELUSIVE DOLL Lyrics: Ole Alexander Myrholt / Music: Tony Eugene Tunheim Already wounded…I wonder if I would dare to be stabbed by the thorns of virtue Such a sight, petite and illegal…a specimen of beauty in shapeless splendour Haunted by her image in blank dismay, I kiss and embrace the dreaming adventure of the dainty, delusive doll… Seeping into the tunnel of reality… The savage beast of lust mock-manly rearing its deceitful head With 666 tattooed upon its bleeding chest Virtue seems like a sheer waste of flesh, I smoulder like a fucking cigarette She bestow me the poet's beauty of phrase, oh, I ejaculate… The vortex of addiction is out of square There are imaginary catchwords everywhere The vortex of temptation gently blows The ego-dolls reap the meadows… …of megalomania… Profoundly wounded…I still wonder during my frequent strolls to this rendezvous Such a sight, so pristine…a specimen of beauty in sheer fucking grace Haunted by her image, spread eagle on my bed, I need some pills to kill the pain I need some pills to absorb the impression of the dainty, delusive doll …seeping into the coma of reality The savage beast of lust mock-manly rearing its deceitful head With 666 tattooed upon its bleeding chest Virtue seems like a sheer waste of flesh, I smoulder like a fucking cigarette She bestow me the poet's beauty of phrase, oh, I ejaculate… THE VENIAL BLUR Lyrics: O. A. Myrholt The promised land of joy leads me quite a chase shaping the vortex moonshine into another daemon aeon Caught in a crossfire of lust, a dream of strange ambient fusion dying in the valley of death, as in the essence of the Shakespearian Conclusion As I dream of that night, dazzled by its charm and as I dream of you nestled here in my arms It's only when I weep, only when I reach to touch you it's only when I nourish the (ultimate) paranoid grandeur it's only when the venereal notion unfolds I see more devils than vast hell can hold You breathe in sharply when I bid (you) to join the trance to wheresoever the (polychrome) devils may dance the gleaming utopia (suddenly) casting shadows of sadness and there is beauty in all its madness When I come down it seems to me, that I am desecration and touching you seems like a revelation… LATE NIGHT, RED WINE BLIGHT Lyrics: O. A. Myrholt / Music: T. E. Tunheim Craving hands carved in my back If love was present I'd make it crack Cynical tripping from here to there It'll turn out less painful if I don't care Sweetest dearie Mother Mary ramble, rumble the sanguine stumble Discipline disciple queen smell the pyre death rate dire I trance in a cynic snakepit eden The apple of sin seems so easy to sell I need no love to define this climax All I need is pure Hollywood hell… Love is dead and hate ruins the set Eve goes down on the fair Juliet Date rape dogma and hell supreme I am the artist that paints the extreme… Rapping simmer always shimmer scent the quibble always nibble Solve the quiz with a kiss kiss the hustle solve the puzzle Taste the mire lust, desire rape and struggle finally snuggle… I trance in a cynic snakepit eden The apple of sin seems so easy to sell I need no love to define this climax All I need is pure Hollywood hell Solve the quiz with a kiss kiss the hustle, solve the puzzle… MALIGNANT MIDWINTER MURDERS Lyrics: O. A. Myrholt / Music: T. E. Tunheim The artifice virginal air became the odour of sinful obsession we subsequently trespassed the boundaries of apt behaviour A midwinter night's gleam, almost bereaved of sympathy we drank from all those feeble hearts, we were the masters of deceit Bohemian soulmates in violent rapture, way beyond the mortal surface The temptress and Mr Misery, a twosome of unhibited gracedays we traduced the world with a touch of havoc; fuck everything She painted the drifting cupid and crowned me; the tranquil king I recall the glorious days of our malignant midwinter murders Oh, how benignly malignant we were... I recall the fragrance of our malignant midwinter murders Reh rebmemer syawla lliw I… Bohemian soulmates in violent rapture, way beyond the mortal surface The temptress and me, a twosome of unhibited gracedays we traduced the world with a touch of havoc; fuck everything She painted the drifting cupid and crowned me; the tranquil king COMME IL FAUT Lyrics: O. A. Myrholt / Music: T. E. Tunheim The envious audience is chasing us through the cold slop of reality exhibited in the dying drama, our design became their wounds we will never follow their sickening script, never pass them but a fake smile and every fucking motion is motley, dispelled from morals… All the little girls have turned into the women that will suck us off… (Comme il faut…) Legions of tiara clad virgins are sifting my fairytales, morbidly possessing my crayons…and it truly fucking hurts All I ever wanted was everything and then some all I ever wanted was to love someone all I ever wanted was the joy they sell all I ever wanted was a heaven in my hell Everything I ever wanted was to disappear here -all I ever wanted was all they ever wanted… everything I ever wanted was an attempt to care -all I ever wanted was all they ever wanted… Everything I ever wanted was a pill to make me gleam everything I ever wanted was the paramount dream All I ever wanted was everything…and then some… All I ever wanted was to love someone… …the joy they sell… …a heaven in my hell… Everything I ever wanted was to disappear… Everything I ever wanted was an attempt to care… Everything they ever wanted was a taste of my fluency everything they ever wanted was a piece of the tragedy All I ever wanted, all they ever wanted all I ever wanted, all they ever wanted… All I ever wanted was everything and then some all I ever wanted was to love someone all I ever wanted was the joy they sell all I ever wanted was a heaven in my hell Everything I ever wanted was a pill to make me gleam everything I ever wanted was the paramount dream All I ever wanted, all they ever wanted I am the drug they always wanted… BENIGN BOHEMIAN BRILLIANCE Lyrics: O. A. Myrholt / Music: T. E. Tunheim I whirl like wilted petals in blissful reverie affected only by the recession your sinful(glittering) eyes, gentle with concern, windburn my (quasi)famous expression a thin strip of white appears at the sky and I cherish the soul's retrieval 'cause even when you tempt my soul it's not enough to make you evil Even though we have never met you seem eerily familiar as if I have known you forever...oh, blissful dismay So many similarities… I bloom like poison, cling to the earth and maintain my imperceptible glare sometimes even the devil gets blinded by guilt but I just waive my attempts to care voyeuristic and whitehot you stare at the expression on my face my fluency becomes you in a vivacious smile of unearthly grace Even though we have never met you seem eerily familiar as if I have known you forever...oh, blissful dismay So many similarities, bohemians in equal brilliance soulmates rejoicing in the fall of a vivid summerday so many similarities, so many hearts left dead in the breeze so many equal thoughts of glittering cold so many patterns black of malicious gold We could enter eden with hellfire love… Imagesque addiction transformed into the next intervention worship the pleasures of celebrity, exit reality and dream with me... So many similarities, bohemians in equal brilliance soulmates rejoicing in the fall of a vivid summerday so many similarities, so many hearts left dead in the breeze so many equal thoughts of glittering cold so many patterns black of malicious gold PRUDENCE KEPT HER PURITY Lyrics: O. A. Myrholt / Music: T. E. Tunheim Prudence kept the sun from shining bright prudence kept the animal from revealing in the night narcissistic raving, nihilistic craving and she became the torment of my heart Prudence was the context of distress and complaint prudence kept her purity when that old moon waned mischievously gleaming, derelict and dreaming faithlessness is highly rated art... Green eyed, deified, envious jewels gleaming drugfumes, childish tunes, Juliet was dreaming sinful trifles, improving my discography rejoicing with the deed that is making me celebrity Oh, well, obliged to hell, deviltry and sadness waylaid by chaos, mirthfulness and madness Feeling, falling, taunting gods creation oh, so lief yielding fluency to temptation Prudence was the context of distress and complaint prudence kept her purity when that old moon waned mischievously gleaming, derelict and dreaming faithlessness is highly rated art... There were few lucid moments in the dead midsummer madness we withdrew from joy of the ultimate kind to sickening sour sadness we wasted our dark passion, we wasted our complexion prudence kept our purity and my art is the grand reflection Green eyed, deified, envious jewels gleaming drugfumes, childish tunes, Juliet was dreaming sinful trifles, improving my discography rejoicing with the deed that is making me celebrity Oh, well, obliged to hell, deviltry and sadness waylaid by chaos, mirthfulness and madness Feeling, falling, taunting gods creation oh, so lief yielding fluency to temptation But if I dream of moonshine, if I taste the (devils) vintage if I dream of wastelands, if I stroll through deserts if I behold autumn, if I reach to touch her cold face I realise our hours draws on apace... SEVEN DEAD ORCHIDS Lyrics: O. A. Myrholt / Music: T. E. Tunheim The vortex of addiction is out of square there are imaginary catchwords everywhere The ego-dolls reap the meadows of megalomania and we crave the spotlight An ephemeral prostitute in the centre of attention my deserted space needs another case of intervention celebrity is my speciality glamorised in fashion I am the mannequin to be Oh, sweet seventeen...her unblemished face clad in the tint of juvenile flesh seven dead orchids lay trampled and beguiled like the lust that died She sits astride The pictures my crayons painted xeroxed and airbrushed to fit admiration disguised in trivial pursuits animated to death… The vortex of addiction is out of square there are imaginary catchwords everywhere The ego-dolls reap the meadows of megalomania and we crave the spotlight… THE DYING BUDS OF MAY Lyrics: O. A. Myrholt / Music: T. E. Tunheim Blister'd be their envious tongues, cut 'em well like a cunt yet to be satisfied had I only the poison mixed, the sharp vengeance knife, the suicide whilst dry sorrow drinks our blood, the torture still roars in dismal hell the mortal paradise of such sweet flesh became the purgatory, (indeed) the (very) hell itself Cut me out of the tragedy, exhibit me as I wear thy lunacy can heaven be so envious, as to keep me in absence fro' thee… Whilst dry sorrow drinks our blood, the torture still roars in dismal hell the mortal paradise of such sweet flesh became the purgatory, (indeed) the (very) hell itself I desecrated the disgusting cross upon which the prince of lies apparently died once upon a November cold when I cunningly committed my suicide… Everyone was bored with love -and God was never more distant Affliction is enamoured of thy lovely parts, and thou art wedded to calamity luciferous serpentine, hid with a flowering face, appearing everywhere I was infected with thy poison, my tongue profoundly possessed by affirmatives all slain, all dead, the tragedy was woe enough, if it had only ended there Exhilarated to death in bondage unison, filling the soulvoid with hate love laid in exhile's chains, so what the hell is there to celebrate… Faretheewell, faretheewell…one kiss and I'll descend into the blooming pits of hell The darling deeds of autumn the dying buds of May Cupid painted dour with lust raining energy as we decay… FIFTEEN MINUTES Lyrics: O. A. Myrholt / Music: T. E. Tunheim I am Mephisto in a sanctified guise attired in robes of silk and fur I was the will o' the wisp of devilish fashion, the glamorous aura of adventure All the kisses you have ever missed Wheresoever you may desire to be kissed We'll kiss and cuddle, we'll fuck and cling I'll be your decadent plaything And I only want to be the only one they want… Oh, their sweetmeat revelation I'm flying on the wings of my desire I'm floating on the sea of your lust Strung out from the burning need to get higher beating hearts in an unison of angel dust I am the hunger of your chaste vulva, beware, your wishes may backfire I am the traitorous wretch, I inflame satisfaction, celebrity and desire All the kisses you have ever missed Wheresoever you may desire to be kissed We'll kiss and cuddle, we'll fuck and cling I'll be your decadent plaything And I only want to be the only one they want… Oh, their sweetmeat revelation I'm flying on the wings of my desire I'm floating on the sea of your lust Strung out from the burning need to get higher beating hearts in an unison of angel dust 15 minutes was all I needed to break free 15 fucking minutes of you and me 15 minutes to leave hell behind 15 fucking minutes to ease my mind Love is such a great coincidence, lust paces on like a fucking machine tearing me in a million directions, thrilling me softly in between YE THAT TEMPTETH, YE THAT BEQUETH Lyrics: O. A. Myrholt / T. E. Tunheim Imagine the starry eyed audience chasing us through (the cold slop of) reality exhibited as mannequins (in a menage a trois), our design would be their wounds we would never follow the script, never pass them but a fake smile and every movement would be motley, dispelled from morals And in the sky there would never be any trace of angels the virginal air would be vaguely transparent yet it would always be somewhat bright the wind would carry us (through enormous roars of enthusiastic applause) ye would herald the age of immorality, vividly, ye would bequeth me the most precious jewellery ye seem like such lovely girls, in a most sinful limbo of dreams; we should be an oblique part of the opaque scene... And in the sky there would never be any trace of angels the virginal air would be vaguely transparent yet it would always be somewhat bright the wind would carry us (through enormous roars of enthusiastic applause) C17-H19-NO3-H2O Lyrics: O. A. Myrholt / Music: T. E. Tunheim I beweep my foolish prudence, I beweep thy sick reluctancy chaos disguised as nought, accusing acquaintance of sodomy Sometimes I just stare blankly for hours wondering how it could have been interrupted only by the blur of sight from the tears I shed in between C17-H19-NO3-H2O... I crawl my way through morphine days anodyne at least, in opiating grace I knew it was killing me but the apple seemed so sweet and I still, sometimes, dream of thee… I am the tranquil king, I mirror cupid in all these phrases there's a sadness in our eyes, dancing stars and trancing faces I am the faithless mainstream of poker puss mannequins to be these days everybody smiles and all the cameras are circling me In forvid energy...I still extol thy image to the sky (and beyond). Thou art petite, thou art pristine... (and) my superlatives are not just words The humid energy (of passion) granted us the wings of hell we are drifting aimlessly (on) our way to somewhere C17-H19-NO3-H2O... I crawl my way through morphine days anodyne at least, in opiating grace I knew it was killing me but the apple seemed so sweet and I still, sometimes, dream of thee… I waive my attempts to smile, I waive my attempts to care tinged with bizarre implicit violence I mimic the expression they expect me to bear I am the pretty, pretty sex machine, when we come is when we die deceit is a pill for us to share, leaving an all time high... TANGLED IN GRAND AFFECTION Lyrics: O. A. Myrholt / Music: T. E. Tunheim Winter and autumn drove hand in hand dazzled by the light of a perplexed moon all tangled in bohemian supremacy and the tingly ambience of a deceitful noon ...tangled in grand affection Autumn's cold hand craving in a tight and comforting response while their bizarre passionate music tore fainthearted souls apart the narrow minded seasons did violently collide when they beheld autumn hellishly situated on winter astride ...tangled in grand affection There were few lucid moments in the subsequent madness both winter and autumn withdrew from joy to abided sadness wasting their dark passion and wasting their complexion reluctancy turned to nonchalance and this denouement is the grand reflection Daunting the timidity of shallow waters, the hands of the beast wrote some touching rhymes sadly they drifted apart like trees denued of leaves, and thus the dialogue was dead by springtime