No Soul Beats Within
To each a blind eye
To all, the filter of self-control
To none, a sense
that we are lost inside
Victims, not witnesses,
an accomplice, not a bystander
in a time when worlds collide
for us, a safe denial
not to push beyond our goals
for us a shattered image
is what our sanity allows
- Mikael Stanne
It was a cold, unforgiving day. Barely a leaf stirred, and no sound sang out from anywhere. A desolate day. There one man sat on the park bench frozen in time. He was the remorseless man. He was the man who would lie to your face without a though, the man who would try to trick you until he tripped on his own untied shoelaces. He was the man that had nothing to lose. He had lost his house, his friends and society's respect. Where did he go wrong?, he always wondered. Did he play the game badly? Just unlucky in his attempts to alter his own landscape? Was this his punishment? "Of course not." Punishment is reserved for those who have done something wrong. And in his mind, he had done nothing wrong. He had only stabbed all that he held dear in the back for the last time. And there was no-one left to kill. The knives were hunting for him, lusting after his blood. But he didn't care. He sat back, delusional, feeling sorry for himself. That, and wondering which poor sucker he could victimize next...until the strains of his requiem played...
To all, the filter of self-control
To none, a sense
that we are lost inside
Victims, not witnesses,
an accomplice, not a bystander
in a time when worlds collide
for us, a safe denial
not to push beyond our goals
for us a shattered image
is what our sanity allows
- Mikael Stanne
It was a cold, unforgiving day. Barely a leaf stirred, and no sound sang out from anywhere. A desolate day. There one man sat on the park bench frozen in time. He was the remorseless man. He was the man who would lie to your face without a though, the man who would try to trick you until he tripped on his own untied shoelaces. He was the man that had nothing to lose. He had lost his house, his friends and society's respect. Where did he go wrong?, he always wondered. Did he play the game badly? Just unlucky in his attempts to alter his own landscape? Was this his punishment? "Of course not." Punishment is reserved for those who have done something wrong. And in his mind, he had done nothing wrong. He had only stabbed all that he held dear in the back for the last time. And there was no-one left to kill. The knives were hunting for him, lusting after his blood. But he didn't care. He sat back, delusional, feeling sorry for himself. That, and wondering which poor sucker he could victimize next...until the strains of his requiem played...