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Empyrean Abattoir
of Montreal
Popularity ยท Low
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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Lyrics
Original
Translation
Bilingual
Winter isn't much here
Just a flinching scent of gray
Though the grasses all look jaundiced
And the poplar branches flayed
Ooh oh
The poplar branches flayed
For your cirque of silence
You came rapping at my door
With your body as a sacrament
Your mind a killing floor
Ooh oh
Your mind a killing floor
I've been trying to quell my anger
And not feel bitter about all the darkness you gave
But as long as there's that device
That I can ask to see through
Your fist is a red terror,
You tried to kill what you couldn't reign
And now you're back in Knoxville
Masturbating your father's pain
Ooh oh
Masturbating your father's pain
Stealing from his aureation of filth
I repeat the wickedness to force reactions out of you
But little hurts as deeply as I want it to
Fickle mix of medicine and explore it 'till I'm dull
You made my sky a graveyard
And my moon a funeral
Ooh oh
My moon a funeral
Ooh oh, ooh oh, ooh oh
Ooh oh, ooh oh, ooh oh
Now it's just a system of subtraction
Oh yeah
I won't even turn around to notice your reaction
Now it's just a system of subtraction
Oh yeah
I won't even feel the hateful binding of your faction
Now it's just a system of subtraction
Whatever happened to your style now
No one cares who you are now
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
You are words beloved by my people
Now it's bad luck to even say your name
Oh, oh When I see you it feels so awkward
I try to be cool but it's such a drag
Oh, oh I waited for you on the feral streets
Smelling other people's piss
How could you think you see me backwards, babe
You ain't even seen the Blikk Fang, babe
It's not acclimated
Now it's only systems of subtraction
Oh yeah
I wont even turn around to look at your reaction
Now it's just a system of subtraction
Whatever happened to your style
Now no one cares who you are
You used to share my broken tongue
Now you sing flat alone
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
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