[Words & music: Barthold]



In the gallery of lost hopes 

We stand as mortal shells 

In this futile passion 



Let the whorish smile seduce you 

In this sickness we all carry 

Let the insects crawl you through 

On this sweet and sickly day 



My soiled hands dig in the mould 

Where all beauty lies rotting 



In the gallery of lost hopes 

You pass between my memories 

As morality dies in my heart 



Let the whorish smile seduce you 

On this sweet and sickly day 



White sheets drenched 

With bodily fluids that dry on my skin 

Experience the infection I bring 

I cling to you in fever and lay myself into your sea 

And let the nausea wash through me