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The Paranoid

Ihsahn

This smell of isolation
A hall of mirrors multiplying
Grotesque features of a golden idol
Melting fast in the fires of confession

And the shame feeds the anger feeds the shame

Dim lights from a dying coal
cast a silhouette upon
the soot-smeared window
the unsolvable crime

And the heart implodes like a faithless star
Beating backwards, beating fast
Black coals of nothingness
Beyond redemption

And the shame feeds the anger feeds the shame