de dood is groot
(de dood is groot)

de ziel ligt bloot
(de ziel ligt bloot)

de aarde is een kloot
(de aarde is een kloot)

Noah had geen boot
(Noah had geen boot)

dus ga ik nu maar dood.

solitude
away from the multitude

to deliberately seclude

a soloist attitude

no servitude

nourishing fortitude

and what if I were the son of the devil
a connoisseur of exquisite evil
what if I were thus without care
deprived of any commandments to bear

it would be best to avoid me like the plague
keep distance, to avoid any undesirable ache
I would not argue, I would not object
no protest in me you would detect

you would have to follow your own path
and I would pursue the mission I have
I would not bother you further in any way
and you would not risk to become the devil's prey

born alone
love not shown
heart of stone
angels moan
life's a loan
pain plentiful
is all that's known

I love the simple things
they give me joy

I love the simple things
the things that don't annoy

I love the simple things
they don't confuse

I love the simple tings
no, I'm not being obtuse

I love the simple things
they keep madness at bay

and by doing the simple things
I will not go astray

ik kan jou niet schelen
en jij bent met zo velen

je doet wel stevig alsof
maar apathie maakt niet het hof

je spiegel op mijn gezicht
alleen jouw woorden hebben gewicht

waarom ik nog in jouw buurt blijf
het heeft allemaal weinig om het lijf

ik zet de ruisende TV af
en scheidt mijn koren van je kaf

it's often a fine mess
this need to express

reluctant socialness
unrewarding deep distress

it's by society frowned upon
early conclusion are drawn

but how do I even dare
opening up, this nightmare

yet a crave to share
into my soul a glare

ik bouw een leven op volgens mijn standaarden
gestoeld op wat mij belangrijk lijkt als waarden

bij geen enkel compromis is het sop de kolen waard
er is geen trade-off voor de waardering van de eigen aard

dit sluit me natuurlijk af, het sluit de deur
maar binnen mijn vier muren is er hier volop kleur

she started to change my home
disregarding my solitary genome

not for the better
and not that it would matter

but an assault to my peace
and tranquility would cease

so then I kicked her out
she did not get what that was about

but if you touch my sanctuary
your presence I will bury

I will dance on your grave
when your last breath you gave

I will dance on your grave
the day your old health will cave

I will dance on your grave
when badly you'll no longer behave

I will dance on your grave
when your absence I no longer need to crave

I will be overcome by joy
when you're no more able to annoy

I will be overcome by relieve
and for not a second I will grief

"wrong" at my doorstep again
calling me to commit sweet sin

seductive as ever
trying to lure me in

tickling my fantasy
speculating me giving in

in a world of hurt
my patience wears thin

hopefully common sense prevails
and I do the right thing

you are too late

you can stuff your faith

I'm heading to the exit gate

you are too late

you are yoo late

I'm now in a "done with it" state

and also in the "fuck you" state

you are too fucking late

you are too fucking late

I won't take any more bait

I won't stop and I won't any longer wait

you are too fucking late

you are too fucking late

no "save the date"

no "see you there, mate"

you are too fucking late

you are too fucking late

now leave me be

mijn navel is een ornament
geen litteken van verbinding
maar van dat geboorte-vervangende-lavement

het kind was puur
het kind was blij
zorgen waren zelden
gedachten waren vrij

maar het paradijs geraakte vervuild
zwarte inkt doordrong de geest
hoop heeft zich verschuild
zijn intrede deed het beest

ik verving mijn bloed door nitro
mijn speeksel veranderde in gif
een overvloed aan ratio
een naamloze pijn net boven het middenrif

weg is de klaarheid
orde lijkt een verre droom
illusie is nu de waarheid
nieuwe brutaliteit doodde schroom

een ontsierende arrogantie
een twijfelachtige intelligentie
zo ingenieus met het verbale
zo onhandig met het triviale

naakte verbinding baart troost
een ander lichaam verdooft de pijn
de roes van fysiek genot
het zeldzame gedachteloos zijn

sporadisch de belofte van liefde
het tochtgat naar een paradijs
maar in plaats van het hoopvolle briesje
een windstille leegte, een gewicht aan grijs

hoe draait de innerlijke wind
waar hangt de inwendige klepel
ik zoek in het doolhof van mijn eigen zijn
naar het eigene, het diepe "mijn"

een hunkering naar de jeugdige eenvoud
een bede voor wat zielegoud
de zoektocht aan de binnenkant
achter een dikke en harde wand

zet je tanden in mij
en ik beloof je een vals gebit
geef me troost en ik stel je teleur
wees vriendelijk en ik toon je mineur

jaag me weg en ik kom terug,
roep me en ik loop van je weg
de ander is zo veraf
want het "ik" is zo bekaf

vandaag betekent een vloek
morgen een risico
ik wacht geduldig op het doek
met een belofte van inferno

de vraag is eenvoudig
het verlangen klaar
een einde aan het verdragen
en een oude kanker die ik eindelijk opbaar

stichters van mijn leven 
nooit een moer om me gegeven

de troep moet ik nu opruimen
na jaren van dat geestelijk pluimen

stichters van mijn leven
je gif zal altijd aan me blijven kleven

de muren sluiten nu om me heen
vervangende liefde komt er geen

stichters van mijn leven
iemand zou je op je donder moeten geven

dra kruip je naar je graf
ben ik eindelijk van je vanaf?

stichters van mijn leven
voor compensatie heb ik de hoop opgegeven

if I could destroy this world, I would
if you're still on it, I should

if the morning throws a ray of sunlight
I would kill it with all my might

if there still would be a shred of life
I would feel to end it with a sacred knife

for the world is but a speck of dust
and for its total destruction I so lust

I say, any rumoured value is lost
I thus cannot accept this highest of cost

destroy the world, if I could
destroy the world, and I should

regret
one of the most fierce enemies I have met

regret
one of the fastest ways to get you irreversibly upset

regret
the promise of a reward I did not get

regret
pain for an idea initially with happines fed

regret

voor een aangenaam beeld van de mens geen hoop
enige wil voor verbroedering in de sloop
vriendschap en liefde schijnbaar vooral te koop
enkel in solitude is het draaglijk op deze kloot

you are a bit too much
I can't agree as such
maybe simply because you're  Dutch
you just might need to ease of the clutch

after putting our "sins" for years under a microscope
strangely the pope is not hanging from a rope
but it was his health that could no longer cope
and in me there now lingers odd hope 
to go to Rome and smoke his ashes to see if it's dope

surrounded by idiots
beer and whisky are my compatriots

you see, I need to survive
I really need to keep alive

while my hate for idiocy 
gets the better of me

I look at the sky 
daily wondering why 

a modicum of intelligence
makes me the pestilence

I hope the church is empty
no one there, would be plenty

I used to crave companionship
but it proved to be somewhat glib

thought I had to please them all
only to one day hit a solid wall

it no longer served my purpose
to be a part of this endless circus

so I said goodbye to the social game
and made Diogenes my new name

it has now become my modus vivendi
so if I die, believe you me
I hope the church is empty

again, the flow comes to a halt
again, the caretakers damn old fault

again, the brick hits the wall
again, no happy end after it all

behold, again no escape from the mold
behold, again a story not being told

alas, options left run few
alas, massive solitude is due

no reason to live
afraid to die

no fucks to give
as time passes by

dark is the night
but also gloomy the day

at the end of the tunnel no light
and again lost my way

ik ben een malloot
een razende idioot
een eeuwige chaoot
een bonafide domme kloot

een dikke gore lul
met totaal geen benul
een grote, dikke nul
altijd een pak flauwe kul

een randdebiel
wat infantiel
zo ontieglijk onstabiel
en duidelijk half seniel

een flinke stoepmongool
never ever iemands idool
een verlepte oude gladiool
de verse hondestront onder je nieuwe zool

vaak nergens goed voor
zet ook nog eens meestal niet door
niet raar dat ik er niet echt bij hoor
en ook niet dat ik je niet echt bekoor

al leek het veel hoopgevender toen
en was het gras aan mijn kant even groen
het zal je zeker ooit de das omdoen
maar je zal het er mee moeten doen

met dwaze groeten,
je oen

while she was definitely certified 
he was suddenly villified

most reason she abandoned
while he in suffering descended

mercilessly she attacked
and hopelessly he was fucked

while she fulminated
he stood there eviscerated

but ending shit does not discriminate
and so at last he did evacuate

I played the corporate game
for that stupidity but myself was to blame

I painted the corporate suit on
ready again for the corporate strapon

worked nine to five and five to nine
the client said "now" and I said "fine"

while the bank account was filling plenty
my soul was slowly running on empty

any purpose was long time sold
and inside it was getting so cold

so one fine day I bailed and that was it
the day I could finally say "well, fuck this shit"

honestly? I always looked upon her like a precious pet
it simple was like that since the day we "kinda" met

yet at one point my heart she stole
even though one could argue there was but a hole 

I must admit she did rock my world 
this little world, usually still and cold

and thus pet became master and master became pet
because I didn't become happier but more lonesome instead

she called the shots and the shots got called
so I shook the leash and I just bawled

she was utterly and thoroughly surprised 
she never thought her pet was a wolf disguised

from that day I no longer was a pet owner
and preferred again to being a justified loner

he is submerged by the ocean of night
he had a talent for avoidence of light

stormy clouds would enter his mind
poisonous ideas, lots and of every kind

labor would offer sparingly relief
and sometimes would postpone his constant grief

but do not pity this man with sorrow
for he might not partake again tomorrow

the mirror shows but your ugly side
as you hide away behind biker pride
make your statements only when intoxicated
while decensy was deeply obliterated

it does not take a great man to pontificate
it does not take a great man to discriminate
it does not take a great man to devaluate
it does not take a great man to humiliate

you can't even reach the base of the mirror
because your true height is becoming clearer

the lack of medication spiraled me back in to hell
a story I wish I never had to tell

hippies telling me I should indulge in meditation
while I know this for me this is but retardation

it probabaly is no good to be dependent
but I rather not again in hell be an attendant

gods of neuro-science hear my prayer
I cannot do this any longer, I swear

I know it by its smell
this is hell

into this place Lucifer fell
this is hell

I know this place quite well
this is hell

my soul I did there sell
this is hell

for ever and ever I here dwell
this is hell

sanity and dignity will here dispel
this is hell

the devil's eternal hotel
this is hell

I know it very well
this is my hell

if I would have to device hell
I would do it in such a way you couldn't tell

lie from truth
un-lie from untruth

I would sprinkle it with just enough hope
for you not to want to reach for the hanging rope

I would offer you sometimes happiness
just enough for you to qualify it as contentedness

I would hope you would accept it as enough
and not give up when times would become tough

so I could keep you busy in this hamster wheel
and distract you from what is real

I would gamble you would be confused to such a degree
you would not protest and be wanting to flee

I would consider it as an accomplishment
when you would see the absurd as an acknowledgment

if you would only just refrain from not becoming insane
I would feel I adequately played the game

you wear the ointment of disappointment
the ablation of expectation
the hanging rope of hope
the proliferation of damnation
the nowhere of dispair

and most of all

the madness of sadness

you have the right to be wrong
even if your arguments are not that strong

you have the right to be wrong
even if you sound like you just hit a bong

you have the right to be wrong
proclaiming bullshit all day long

you have the right to be wrong
you can even make it your own little theme song

you have the right to be wrong
but you need to understand, I won't play along

I know the truth 
I hold the truth

it's in my head
nothing instead

can't be told otherwise
truth has no disguise

it is of sorrow
no splendour to borrow

but at least it's real
and it's how I always feel

she smelled like roses
and roses have thorns 

I liked the Pornhub poses
yet something still warns

fun was had 
fun in spades

she turned out mad
nut of all trades

I had to get out
get to where it was safe

what the fuck was that about
but she did not get to dance, dance on my grave

there is no more appreciation for the written word
it is denied or forgotten by the general herd

it's hardly competition for the clicks and likes
and the Megan Fox TikTok lookalikes

the nuance and beauty is lost on most
it's lost on the masses collectively comatosed

this written endeavor seems pointless and sad
but it's the most fun an aching soul has ever had

the fluffy pillow of a false idea
provides the comfort you would like to see

you put yourself to sleep 
swallowing the lies you decide to keep

fact to you is nothing but a lie
while finding the truth you didn't even try

should I correct your deceiving ways 
and intervene when it's illusion you chaise

wat is de zin van het leven?
ik heb gezocht, het staat nergens beschreven

is het van zo veel mogelijk weg te geven?
dat doet mijn egocentrisch fundament toch wel wat beven

is het aan een utopische liefde kleven?
ach, zijn de meeste na een tijdje niet een bende teven?

misschien moet je een financieel tapijt weven
maar vanaf dan moet je wel weer echt op je hoede wezen

of wellicht wil de heer dat we mekaar wat liefde geven
maar dan ken je mijn buurman niet, die kan me worst wezen

ik ga dan maar mijn zin doen met mijn leven
en er op mijn manier heel rustig een lap op geven

today's birthday of the Nazarene 
is rather repulsive and obscene
after all, he died on a cross
burried and then never to be seen

centuries later millions believe
all this crap, like the story of Adam and Eve
and on this foolish day 
they still choose to grieve

I think if he existed at all
his myth will surely fall
for the BS comes in spades
and never from his grave he'll crawl