From:
He is profanity in sanctity's guise
An alias assumed I do realize
In their eyes, his cause -
When enticing and cunning in impact,
Is still a criminal and evil act.
So look for him vainly,
He, the incarnation of evil, a binar angel
Of magical nature - he turns unrecognizable,
Even to the experienced eye.
You obsessively pursue him
Failing to see, that was why he came to be
One who annihilates with such impunity.
He appears your friend, but the Saint hides many Satans.
He's contemptuous, you know of your Godgiven stupidities.
He calls you in question with affected modesty,
and creates of you an object of derision.
You think him to be the pariah
Whom company does exclude.
But in the midst of all frenzy,
He is feasting in a transitory mood.
Passion is a strict lord,
He is also its humble slave,
When bereft of common ways,
He strides before you on water,
He makes clowns of kings,
Charm the guests, rides the ball,
Is the master of disguise.
Prince of the thousandfold face,
the charming jester's smile,
Which invites reason to demise,
And imaginations rise.
Inscrutable yes, venting his spleen,
Somewhere night and day between,
Is the master of disguise.
Translate to:
He is profanity in sanctity's guise
An alias assumed I do realize
In their eyes, his cause -
When enticing and cunning in impact,
Is still a criminal and evil act.
So look for him vainly,
He, the incarnation of evil, a binar angel
Of magical nature - he turns unrecognizable,
Even to the experienced eye.
You obsessively pursue him
Failing to see, that was why he came to be
One who annihilates with such impunity.
He appears your friend, but the Saint hides many Satans.
He's contemptuous, you know of your Godgiven stupidities.
He calls you in question with affected modesty,
and creates of you an object of derision.
You think him to be the pariah
Whom company does exclude.
But in the midst of all frenzy,
He is feasting in a transitory mood.
Passion is a strict lord,
He is also its humble slave,
When bereft of common ways,
He strides before you on water,
He makes clowns of kings,
Charm the guests, rides the ball,
Is the master of disguise.
Prince of the thousandfold face,
the charming jester's smile,
Which invites reason to demise,
And imaginations rise.
Inscrutable yes, venting his spleen,
Somewhere night and day between,
Is the master of disguise.