Cadaveria (ITA)

In Your Blood tracks


1. 100.000 FACES

There is a fracture in contemporary thought between tension and fragility
Between voracity and fear of an imminent explosion.
Syndrome of over-nourishment
Perception of a latent loss
Innovation in permanent contrast with the past.
Modern artists, like perverted creatures drowned in plastic,
Explore encoded forms of expression
Inverting the logical sequence of musical score.


After foggy and funereal days
In a mixture of sadness and devotion,
Memory and mental escape
I take back my life
A bit confused, but more conscious of my way.
I wish warm affections
True emotions
Absence of artifice.
I want to rock myself on my arts
Enjoying the new time
But I don't forget where I come from
And people who loved me.


Thirst for life is delightful
Thirst for fame reawakens
Don't tell me to stop thinking,
Don't force me to stop acting,
Don't make me stop speaking...
You can't change me
I would never explain it again.
You don't know me
You can't understand my words
You perceive a parallel idea of me
Like a coral generated by gemmation.
You don't see my heart is transparent.
You don't perceive I'm totally open
You don't feel my willingness
You don't trust my clearness
You misunderstand my essence.
Anagrammatize my psychotic dreams
And you will find out myself.


I write about sensations, moods and apparitions,
While people give parties to cover the silence.
There is no sense in feeling remorse for a thing you could not control.
And death sings...
Would you mind if I die?
What did you want when you continued to ask?
My energies must be direct to an act.
I continually research a sure channel to address my emotive contradictions.
I yearn they have a positive origin
Intolerant towards imperfection.
I practise a personal and secret auto-therapy,
Against the shame of publicly showing our own signs.
Memento audere semper


May this poetry remain in your heart
May these notes inebriate your senses
This could be the last chance to light your fire
Before time turn your mind to black
Take a decision about your future
Dare use your invention
Gather up your experiences
Before your energy weaken to black
Shout your ideas
Before your voice vanish into black
Let your love be released
Before the last shine fade to black
Shout your, your ideas
Before oblivion suffocate your breath
Let your love be released
Before the last shine fade to black
May this poetry remain in your heart
May these notes inebriate your senses
This is a gift for you all
Do not forget to accept it before
Laying in black


No time to be religious
No space for individual research.
No time to be religious
Disclose your cervical case
And see enlightened reality is more obscure than a solar eclipse.
Don't barricade yourself in your cocoon of selfishness.
Come out from your comfortable crypt,
From your precious temple,
From your private ritual room,
Perfumed with rare spiritual oils.
Keep control of your blood, be conscious of your fragile consistence
And realize others' presence is stronger then your fear...
Let your conscience overcome the boundaries of convention,
And give your mind a rest on this absurd state of entropy.
Contaminated by the vulgar dirt, infected by the morbid plague.
Let your individual prayer become a collective exorcism to chaos.
Open your gangrenous eyes
And see terrible terror everywhere.


Earth, warmth, death.
Time wasted in building inconsistent hypothesis
Waiting for all is adjusted
Trying to justify the difference.
They are asking me to act without being.
Mood sensitive to variations,
To air and fire's vibrations.
Keep your honour and will unshakable
Direct your thought to powerful stars,
Towards imposing aims,
Towards great concrete spheres.
Why do things happen?
Why is it always so difficult?
Why is it always so complicated?
Perpendicular presences undermine my concentration,
Disturb, interfere,
Generate hysteria and misunderstanding.
Ironical... my regret is my source of energy.
I feel impulse to proceed
I feel impulse to be.
Clouds, clouds, but branches are still dressed with leaves
And for me it is still time of Spring


At the foot of the high mountain
There's a land where you can speak with your mind.
Along the streets a multitude of temples,
Consecrated to grotesque idols,
Burn incenses to celebrate the time of forgiveness.
Creatures living in this place
Can teach you how to read dreams.
Rivers flowing through this ground
Carry the purity of silver.
Androgynous beings card an innumerable variety of precious silks,
Used to dry tears of joy.
I can perceive the majestic presence of the bull-man,
Who reigned here for centuries,
Before the apes came, before the apes came.
He was adored by legions of half-fish beings,
Later absorbed by the sea bed and sunk into the sweet wool.
Now he's sleeping forever in the red house, near the magnificent stream.
The gong rings to remind
The interrupted rhythm of his noble breathing.
The gong rings to remind
The interrupted rhythm of his breathing.


Feel the frequency
Perceive your pulse
Trust the ideology
To capture the ancient secret of life.
I'm looking for the antidote to myself
I'm working for my heart's freedom
To rid myself of the other side of me.
To rid myself of this virtual escape from tragedy
Hypochondriac creature
Disturbed by his memory
One single disease to cure
But you think of the rest.
It's not as tragic as you believe
Just free your mind of fears, life is pulsing.
Just feel its frequency.
Life is pulsing, just feel it.
Just feel the frequency of this virtual escape from tragedy.


I love people who make things
I love conversations.
I saw people inside a wrapping
Like a protective veil for their soul.
Atypical suggestions by a dead artist
I recorded my image on a film still
To seal my existing condition.
I praised appearance and style
While I was visiting exhibitions to fight boredom and depression,
To satisfy my thirst of visual celebrations and of intellectual stimulations.
Atypical suggestions by a dead artist
I experienced the hallucination of panic
Through sweat, breathing and suffocation.
And I found again my direction
When I spoke to a man who told me what I wanted to hear.
I need to be loved once in a day.
I need two days to re-enter from my mental disease.
I need to be loved once in a day.
Atypical suggestions by a dead artist


...If you drive your glance too much in the abyss,
The abyss penetrates yourself with its glance.
Remember every fear hides a desire
And that desire means tension...
Faith is the enemy of knowledge,
Religion produces placebo effects...
The contact with the divine is always beneficial,
Even if it is only in your head...
Tension is vitality
While perfection is death...
Desire means tension
Religion produces placebo effects...
Faith is the enemy of knowledge,
Religion produces placebo effects,
The contact with the divine is always beneficial,
Even if it is only in your head...