IDOLS OF CHAGRIN


Celtic Frost



What kind of race, lack of direction
Just how lunatic, to have a nature so deceitful
Bewail my reverie, a gambol untried
Lure of carnality and silence in forfeit
Animals, enslaved to pearls of fictionalized worth
Creatures, born from caves into simulated mirth
I'm talking, Idols of Chagrin, journey into fear
Born of possession, complacence in disguise
Craving and candid, as to defy the character's fall
The kisses you drain, pedestrian pedigree the Moonlight
What's thought is pain might be desire after all.




(Contributed by =Ae= - December 2013)