Music: Henriksson, Sundin  Words: Sundin  Enter Suicidal Angels:  How hungry we've become:  like animals naked in shame  Fed with the hooves of apocalypse  that galloped down, disordered worlds behind  >From word to a word I was led to a word  that spanned over cultures in rage  Crimson masses, steeped in decadence  holding our tongues to the thirsty sun  So, is the future still open?  Then enter, hornet, from our hive-dark hearts  to draw down the end from within  We need not the horns  that ornate from our warty, haunted bodies  ### ### ### ### ### ###  Nihilist, Hedon  the priceless art of their lives  Sorrow is a wing laid atop their heads,  skin deep, we carve our immeasurable sorrow  in the fold of your shivering arms  Hedon,  Your children wild  and filled with death  # Jupiter in our unforgiving eyes:  a pandemonium of bodies and gold  Eager, as a part of your face  and the sickness attached to your skin (stone)  as the wine-rush,  charging from androgynous wombs  to open free the tide of pain #  Hedon,  rinsed in post-human shadows  a monument scorned by the teeth of time  Stale-faced keeper of secrets,  loaded with implosive fire  the whore that carried the apostle  to the mating point on the graves of giants  We look at you, afraid  to see what we really are.