Armamentarium Lyrics Album by Neaera
Welcome to the best site to read Armamentarium Lyrics, This Album was released on the year 2007 by the band Neaera
Album Lyrics
1. Spearheading the Spawn
Attack!
The world’s eyes are getting sore.
A boot in humanity’s face.
This camp makes your country a target even more.
A sacrifice (on the altar) of security.
The side-effects of your selfish deeds grew bigger than what you tried to defeat.
By fighting terror with these means, your enemies only unite and increase.
Suicide, torture, hunger-strike can’t prevent you from your path.
Arrogant monopoly of being right, privilege of the powerful and hurt.
Praising the war on terror.
A great recruitment trigger.
It all comes back to you.
It all comes back to you.
You reap the wind you sow.
Sow wind, reap storm.
You sow wind, reap storm.
Praising the war on terror.
A great recruitment trigger.
It all comes back to you.
It all comes back to you.
You reap the wind you sow.
Reap the wind you sow.
Spearheading the spawn!
2. Tools of Greed
We are the weeping mass, born into emptiness.
Abandoned in the center of your disregard.
Tempted by hope to escape from despair
Naivity led us to fall for your charms.
Spirits numb with fear.
These voices laugh no more.
Whispers to deafened ears.
These crying eyes are sore.
Blinded by the light of your false illusions.
We in vicious circles into our doom.
From a place where nothing is at ease.
We pray for the aftermath as we dwell in perpetual gloom.
We are the ruling class, your woeful unexistence is the essence of our lies.
We turn your hopes to chaos.
We turn your hopes to chaos.
With blind precision we dissect your minds.
Your loss is our gain.
You are the tools of our greed, ee turn your seconds to hours.
We sacrifice your empty shells to our false gods, helplessly devoured.
Spirits numb with fear.
These voices laugh no more.
Whispers to deafened ears.
These crying eyes are sore.
3. Armamentarium
Right!
Fit out for the dangers of our century.
It’s not the time to disarm.
Arm against social decay.
Anonymity, decadence, neglect.
Armamentarium.
Get armed against the poison.
The antidote is almost under way.
Armamentarium.
Get armed against the poison.
The antidote is almost under way.
Get armed against social cutback.
Unemployment, divide.
Arm against social terror.
It creeps through the veil of democracy.
Get armed against withdrawal.
Only offense will survive.
Only offense will survive.
Beware of depression, your soul shall be a palace.
Get armed against yourself, the roots are always within.
Armamentarium.
Get armed against the poison.
The antidote is almost under way.
Armamentarium.
Get armed against the poison.
The antidote is almost under way.
Armamentarium.
Get armed against the poison.
The antidote is almost under way.
Under way.
4. Synergy
This is for the fragile and weak, serenades of the yearning.
This is for the strong and ambitious, anthems of power and pride.
Tunes for the burning inside, pouring oil in your fire.
We stand in tranquillizing flames.
Kill the quiet with the storm and the storm with the quiet.
Quenching the ordinary pains in the quiet ablaze.
This is for the angry and pissed, the sound of denial made flesh.
This is for the scarred and withdrawn: Build bridges instead of walls!
A shell of swords and knives protects the core inside.
Tracks from the womb of life bring angels and demons to light.
Tunes from the depths of our hearts, you pour the oil in our fire.
We stand in tranquillizing flames.
Kill the quiet with the storm and the storm with the quiet.
Quenching the ordinary pains in the quiet ablaze.
In the quiel ablaze.
In the quiel ablaze.
5. Harbinger
Inside this infant shell I
prematurely came of age,
a childhood’s remnants for
nightmares of abysmal suffering.
I carried the burden to the edges of my
soul to spread the tale for those who are
forced to scream without a mouth.
Who are forced to scream without a mouth!
You thousands, you millions
behold the sound of my voice.
You children of children remember
the sound of my voice.
Harbinger of the past,
keeper of a better tomorrow?
Harbinger of the past,
keeper of a better tomorrow?
My eyes have gazed
into a vortex of brutality,
from the undertow I surfaced
and was washed ashore.
I am an orphanyet a
child to all my memories.
I am alone yet there are so
many more like me.
One of millions
descended into chaos,
victims of minds infected
with all consuming hate.
With all consuming hate!
You thousands, you millions
behold the sound of my voice.
You children of children remember
the sound of my voice.
Harbinger of the past,
keeper of a better tomorrow?
Harbinger of the past,
keeper of a better tomorrow?
Tomorrow!
The rain of all these tears has
cleansed my mind of anger,
it has erased the urge to retaliate.
Behold the sound of my voice,
remember the sound of my voice.
6. In Loss
Rage!
The tree grows sturdy.
The rock withstands the raging floods.
Fate wields the axe, turns the tide that will one day cause the stone to break.
Inside this painful dissonance, I commend myself to dark oblivion.
Petrified and crippled.
Petrified and crippled.
My safe harbour lies in ruins.
A life never to be lived.
Joy never to be felt.
Laughter never to be heard again.
Never to be healed again.
Estranged and marked by loss, I lash out at the unreachable.
Disposable creature, denying the uncomfortable.
The tree grows sturdy.
The rock withstands the raging floods.
Your soul will never cease to pulse inside me.
My safe harbour lies in ruins.
A life never to be lived.
Joy never to be felt.
Laughter never to be heard again.
7. The Orphaning
Storm and sea punish us piece by piece.
But world economy must grow.
If we drown, we drown in luxury.
But world economy must grow.
Why should we save lives we’ll never meet?
Why should we not destroy?
Why should we not destroy ourselves?
Orphaning the future.
Orphaning ourselves.
The change we cause will slowly destroy your tiny world.
You have nothing to say, you’re helpless, consumed.
We’re dancing to the end on volcanoes.
Screaming pantomimes in our ears.
At night, we set our beds ablaze.
Orphaning the future, orphaning ourselves.
Why should we save lives we’ll never meet?
Why should we not destroy?
Why should we not destroy ourselves?
Orphaning the future.
Orphaning ourselves.
We’re dancing to the end on volcanoes.
Screaming in our ears.
At night, we set our beds ablaze.
Orphaning the future, orphaning ourselves.
8. The Escape from Escapism
I have been thinking the wrong thoughts.
Misread the signs.
Walking on false paths.
I misjudged life.
I was chanting the wrong songs, too deaf to hear.
Playing nostalgic tunes, anywhere, but here.
Anywhere, but here.
Anywhere.
You can not get the right answers when you’re asking the wrong questions.
Following familiar tracks is seldom the best.
Strength is not how high you can climb, but how you cope when you bounce.
We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.
Don’t let the past reign you forever.
Strength is not how high you can climb, but how you cope when you bounce.
We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.
9. Mutiny of Untamed Minds
I am the breeder of my fear.
Apathy is my tender liar.
Immerged in leeches pond.
Cowardice the disgraceful vice.
Widower of my delusion with disobedient flesh.
I refuse to gorge the bowels of decay.
Paralyzed by barking jaws, hurricanes become a whisper.
Claws of the powerful, enchain angry raised fists.
Widower of my delusion with disobedient flesh.
I refuse to gorge the bowels of decay.
Afraid to bow down again.
In the dungeon of submission, they flagellate rebellious hearts
Close mutiny of untamed minds, where boldness will be first mate.
Widower of my delusion with disobedient flesh.
I refuse to gorge the bowels of decay.
10. The Need for Pain
You curse the inner demons.
Condemn all that aches.
What you thought would kill you, also keeps you alive and breathing.
Don’t deny your inner demons.
Don’t try to kill them away.
Make use of your passion and pain.
Grief, melancholy.
Sources divine to creativity.
Grief, melancholy.
Sources divine to creativity.
This life is just a fragment of a dream.
What would drive us if we were complete?
The desire anchored inside is haunting, but makes you tick and move.
Tick and move.
What has died in you that must be resurrected?
What has died in you that must yet be buried?
That must yet be buried?
Some things you simply cannot tame, the need for pain.
Sometimes you simply cannot tame, the need for pain.
This life is just a fragment of a dream.
What would drive us if we were complete?
The desire anchored inside is haunting, but makes you tick and move.
Tick and move.
Tick and move.
Tick and move.
11. Liberation
The house, the storm.
Feather and tar.
Art, existence.
The house, the storm.
Feather and tar.
Art, existence.
The flower in the sewer.
The days of mourn are pass, all sorrow aside.
I finally arrived in a realm I thought not be true.
Here I dwell forever, eternal ease.
Found a lotus in the sewer, a lake for the sword.
No longer sick of shining, no longer scared of burning.
Grand, imperial peace, I left the wretched.
The scarred despise all grief, antagonism.
Grand, imperial peace, I left the wretched.
The scarred despise all grief, antagonism obsolete.
The world has silenced, the voices are gone.
I made oil my water and dust my air.
Found relief, salvation, quit the downward spiral.
Sad years, bygone.
Future, the brightest white.
Grand, imperial peace, I left the wretched.
The scarred despise all grief, antagonism.
Grand, imperial peace, I left the wretched.
The scarred despise all grief, antagonism obsolete.
Antagonism obsolete.
The house, the storm.
Feather and tar.
Art, existence.
The flower in the sewer.
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