Ég hef verið að dunda mér síðasta árið við að semja nokkur ljóð og texta við lög, það hefur ekki verið rosalega vel tekið í marga af þeim í vinahópnum mínum, en mig vantar að vita

Hvort þetta sé bara vegna þess að þau þekkja mig eða bara útaf því að þeir eru lélegir.

Following Faith

Join me in a quest for perfection.
Ending never in our search.
Seeking for something that isn’t there
Useless for we are never to be heard of
Souls without heart, souls without a body

Fearfull of the guilt we can not bare
Use your strength to defeat your foes
C everything, hear everything
Kings can not win us we are gods
I am the ruler of gods
No one can take my thrown of solitude
God of men, God of souls and God of you

Come and play with your powers
Hero in the eyes of a stranger
Reptile in the eyes of a fool
Infamous in the eyes of a peasant
Saying what you want to say
Touching what you want to touch

Win the heart of the one you love
Hammer upon your enemies
Always be free, never to be chained
Timeless is your life never to end


This really what you want
Hell only to wait for you
In the flames and heat, stabbed by deamons
Satan sipping upon your leaking blood

Idiot you were following me to your horrible death
Time has finally caught up with you and taken all your wealth

The Aliens Love Of Me

Hello, are you an alien
I am just a man
A true Episcopalian
Do you have a plan

Do you want to wipe us out
With that big Omega-ray
Or should I go, scream and shout
You’re santa with your sleigh

Please, tell me now
Are you a friend or a foe
Am I going to allow
For them to list you as John Doe

Answer me quick, Answer me well
Or I shall have to kill you
And when they ring that awful bell
No one will bid adieu

.– .- -. -
…. .- – -… ..- .-. –. . .-.

What are you saying
Is it Morse that you speak
Is it music your playing
What is it that you seek

-. —
— -. .. — -. …

Why are you leaving
Do you dislike me
Or was it just recieving
My love, that had had you flee

I hope you come back someday
To tell me how you can say
What had you to go away
Was it they
Or was it all a big display
My god, this is such a cliché

Ljóð eftirMig er einnig að finna á