Text: Poets Of The Fall. Psychosis.

Well, it’s a different man in your face
And so out of place,
That you can see anything there that you wish…
Kiss my bliss…
It’s like I’m a welcoming freakshow doormat,
Held in awe while growing fat in the head…
This is where we all should see red;
A big fat wet slab of red.

And I see that it makes me anti-everything…
And I see that it makes me want to shed my skin, shed my skin…

Revelation leading to my psychosis and inspiration.
Digest another hallucination, psychosis by recreation,
Happy till the next deterioration.
Psychosis…

For you it’s a different notion of music and motion,
A dance of lights,
A prosaic ocean,
A delicate nearly transparent creation of somebody’s
Soul on the screen has caught you in between
Of somebody’s life on the stage, and somebodys life on
The frontpage, and this is where we all should see red,
A big fat laughing mouth of red!

And I see that it makes me anti-everything…
And I see that it makes me want to shed my skin, shed my skin…

I think I’m gonna start my own religion…
Seems to be the recipe for a new sensation.
Think it’s gonna make a trendy revolution,
Quite the contribution to the unnatural selection…