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    [Lyrics: Ole Alexander Myrholt]
    [Music: Tony Eugene Tunheim]

    Already wounded...I wonder if I would dare to be stabbed by the thorns of virtue
    Such a sight, petite and illegal...a specimen of beauty in shapeless splendour
    Haunted by her image in blank dismay, I kiss and embrace the dreaming adventure
    Of the dainty, delusive doll...
    Seeping into the tunnel of reality...

    The savage beast of lust mock-manly rearing it's deceitful head
    With 666 tattooed upon it's bleeding chest
    Virtue seems like a sheer waste of flesh, I smoulder like a fucking cigarette
    She bestow me the poet's beauty of phrase, oh, I ejaculate...

    The vortex of addiction is out of square
    There are imaginary catchwords everywhere
    The vortex of temptation gently blows
    The ego-dolls reap the meadows...

    ...of megalomania...

    Profoundly wounded...I still wonder during my frequent strolls to this rendezvous
    Such a sight, so pristine...a specimen of beauty in sheer fucking grace
    Haunted by her image, spread eagle on my bed, I need some pills to kill the pain
    I need some pills to absorb the impression of the dainty, delusive doll

    ...sleeping into the coma of reality

    The savage beast of lust mock-manly rearing it's deceitful head
    With 666 tattooed upon it's bleeding chest
    Virtue seems like a sheer waste of flesh, I smoulder like a fucking cigarette
    She bestow me the poet's beauty of phrase, oh, I ejaculate...

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