Phantasmal Paranoia — Thyrane

When the sun won't shine on you They are inside you, intoxicating Bringing the deal from the devil Your soul will be sold tonight

Drifting at the interstellar oceans Laconic voice speaking about itself As I see myself chasing me into the vortex Discipline's executed below the surface

Chorus:

When synthetic gallows takes control Murder of my mind is one of a kind Believe in the words of darkness Life is soon to be out of vogue here

There is no grave beneath my flowers No worms on my bones No proof of existence No formula to exit

When the worms encircle your shrine They are still inside me, intoxicated