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Ephel Duath - The Painter's Palette cover art
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The Painter's Palette

(2003)
TypeStudio Full-length
GenresAvant-garde Metal
LabelsElitist
Album rating :  87.5 / 100
Votes :  2
Lyrics > E > Ephel Duath Lyrics (18) >

The Painter's Palette Lyrics

(9)
Submitted by level DevilDoll
1. The Passage (Pearl Grey) (4:11)
I've a thousand ways to ruin all,
But I'm walking to poor choices
A negative pulse will be searching for me.

Immobilised in the cerebral cell
I'm observing my steps...in vain...

Are you coming to poison my remarks?
This grating
Offers

Protective trees and feeble barriers,
But is too distant,
The innocence's round dance.

My various eyes are melting,
'cause the past is kidding me with the same
Consoling mask,
(But) I'm coming to The Passage,
The exit from this opaque, filthy case.....
Come to listen....it's so refined the whisper of my rise
(I'm) coming to the passage!
2. The Unpoetic Circle (Bottle Green) (4:54)
It is quite ironic,
I can't slow down this run,
But this was my object:
To feel.

Here,
Without disturbances,
Lives the sound,
I want to close this cycle,
But is it equilibrium?
We are sliding but all appears so immobile.

And I'm so different from me:
It's so stupid.
Please sketch a portrait to define,
I will offer you our faces,
Incompleteness,
Indefinite resistance.

Here,
Without disturbances,
Lives the sound,
I want to close this cycle,
But is it equilibrium?

We are sliding but all appears so immobile.
3. Labyrinthine (Crimson) (5:21)
Smell this gentle condition...
Misanthropy.

Is there something to respect?
Painting the same landscape again,
You can lose
What these fluid movements are electing.

The unconscious, undesired companion,
Wins.
It's so easy...

Now you can admire
This mental abortion,
He's not an illegitimate child,
He's your monster....

Why are you trying to suffocate?
Raise this figure and forget
Your unpure facade.
This is the way out,
This is the way out.

Labyrinthine!
Let the union occur.
Receive the essence with pride:
The old theatre is falling asleep.
This is the labyrinthine!

Smell this gentle condition....Misanthropy.

The unconscious, undesired companion,
Wins.
It's so easy..
4. Praha (Ancient Gold) (5:17)
[Instrumental]
5. The Picture (Bordeaux) (4:52)
A never ending Painting,
No subject defined,
Not a precise style,
Confused traits poor colours.

Are you really able to find a message?

I,
Defeated,
Grow dim again,
To not graze this lying vision,
To not admire the ba**l.

Distantly,
Glittering sides try to illude, [elude?]
Disturbing,
No results...Again....

I rove hearing the noise...of false moves.

Skimming transparent figures,
Observing a pale
And sober, Painting....
I will deface it,
Enjoy the cut.
6. Ruins (Deep Blue and Violet) (4:56)
...And in poor seconds,
the filthy figures surrounding
become obstacles....

Smell of acid thoughts.

Intoxicated eyes,
Madly,
Are you searching for the obscure calm,
But the partial blindness doesn't relieve,
And viscid words are shoves to the fury
My hostile guide.

Memories contribute to mental fall,
Skin refuses to feel.
Hide my mind
From the unconscious desire
Of wound, deep wound.

I drag between a liquid grey and the hole.

Intoxicated eyes,
Madly,
Are you searching for the obscure calm,
But the partial blindness doesn't relieve,
And viscid words are shoves to the fury
My hostile guide.

No way,
By now, there's no way,
And I spit on these ruins.
What silliness....Quiet
7. Ironical Communion (Amber) (5:28)
Sweet Irony,
hits my tangled troubles, and frees this
blade
from the stranding line
Cynically slides,
Through dusty gemstone,
To offer a soft respite to my ethereal
plagues.

Let me cover with silence,
The figures around me:
A velvety sigh on the noisy stammering.

Grow to a physical essence,
And heavily walk on this living mosaic
Called pain...
I can hear the breath of every dowel:
My demons are waiting...

Conceal this fool architecture
From my (singing) conviction.
Blind my cyclopian, trifling dreads
And dethrone the useless days
From my infested eyes.
Irony, my care.
8. My Glassy Shelter (Dirty White) (4:46)
Is it so useless to talk
With these still shades?
Sometimes it seems that
I spy my moves
Through the vent of a glass stone.

...But what am I observing?
The sandpit I'm digging
Doesn't seem deep enough,
'cause the cries of the wounded wave
are covering my strains.

But I long for this amorphous embrace
To reach close connections with my
Ego:
This is the spiral...

Is it so useless to talk
with these still shades?
9. The Other's Touch (Amaranth) (6:44)
It's so improbable to find the light,
When clouds are rubbing me.
Words run creating hatred scrawl,
Streets have nothing more to ask.

When I relive this Pain
Chessmen have a unique colour,
And the Clash begins.
I feel all the moves,
I know all the moves,
but I can't expect them:
'cause I'm the battlefield.

My feeble profile seems to implode,
My aural prison becomes the perfect hiding place.
View is overturning
To this internal Abyss,
Where
My withered leaves burn
And mirrors have nothing left to reflect.
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