CEPHALECTOMY


Dellamorte Dellamore Lyrics

[Stop killing the dead...
Deadmind, if you don't want the dead coming back to
life,
Why don't you just kill the living.
Shot him in the head, are you listening to me?]

At a certain point in your life,
You start to realize you know more dead people than
living.
At about this same point,
You also start to realize you will do anything for true
love.

His name is Francesco, engineer of the dead.

The Buffalora Cemetary is plagued by unsettling
circumstances
In which the dead rise from their graves
Francesco is not alone in his quest to keep the dead,
dead.
He is joined by his mute assistant Gnaghi.

Keep them dead!

It was the cemetary
Her husband dead, her weeping at his grave
He found love there, he found her alone
It was over his grave they found each other
Marble Orchard makeout, sex on her husbands grave
He is not dead, upon escaping his tomb he finds her
neck.

She has been destroyed
The only woman he ever loved
To the grave with her
To await her impending return.

Endlessly he waits until finally she rises from her
tomb.

It's not her,
She must be silenced as Gnaghi understands.

Set upon the living in states of lucid dreaming he
lashes
Taking the lives of those who languish.

Beseeched by upswings in buisness he toils restlessly
All the while returning the dead to the ground.

She returns to Francesco as someone else
Leaving him with heartache and impotence.

Gnaghi finds love with the mayors daughter
As she flees with her love on a motorbike
They meet a fiery end with a bus of boyscouts.

Massacre! Insomnia!
Hopeless! Massacre!

As Gnaghi finds love with the severed head of the
mayor's daughter
Francesco claims to have found love once more with a
college student
No love, she was a whore so she paid with her life in a
fiery hell
Gnaghi looses his love to a gunshot when she kills her
poor daddy.

Back to the cemetary, lines of the living blur with the
dead
No love to be found, they must leave Buffalora
What exists of the world beyond this place?
Marble Orchard massacre! The deaths were mine!
There is nothing, nothing left of the dying place for
them.

Drive as far and as fast as you can,
Until you reach the edge of the world.

At a certain point in your life, you start to realize
you know more dead people than living.
At about this same point, you also start to realize you
will do anything to escape reality.

There is nothing.

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