1. |
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Inside the barren bliss of a blazing blade
I found a glimpse of unsheathed perpetuity
Therein, contained, the years to come showed the plane
Where my vision and true absoluteness merged into one
My demiurgic chains I want to crush
So I can lay the bones of the world to rest (once) again
Fire, the purificator be our essence and guide
Where this world begins, it sets its perilous end
And so I must march towards the halls of Old
In horror and blood to writhe
To drink from the most high cup of unrelenting glory
And to bend the unpersistful being which ails me
As I follow the trails of Thanatos,
Descension grips this earthly incarnation
The sound and vision of the horns sets the mark
To fly throughout the crystal nightsky
Transforming unto the black words of ancient
Becoming the key of chaos unlocking itself
A wound and an illness combined, death of all,
The pristine dream of all dreams, the Absolute
I tell you now, we obtained the Fire!
And it hid the final Truth: the plunder of all ways known
These hands of undoing shall light the torch of a new dawn
Raising a throne on the ashes of repetition
For every eternity that withered before me
Came another ulcer of heavenly light
From the throne afar I watched them grow
With a feverish madness of the thousand winds of Satan
Long ago we stood upon the time of cathartic doom
When the skin burned brightly from the core of unholy wisdom
And at long last the sulphur boils with a mocking might
The Void stretches it's arms again
As every seed that grows must wither
So shall this valley of ''life'' be scorched for once
We are the scythe that reaped the false essence
In the name of the Black God...
On the verge of the existence's eclipse, we build a new dimension
A dimension of Satan!
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2. |
In Being Engraved
07:16
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The undying urge to plunder the ways of flesh
Lay hidden in the very depths of mundane shape
And indeed it was chained by sheer ignorance!
Slithered out of its cocoon, it reverberates the one and only sound:
The sound of His maledictions, the call of fleshless chambers
A sprout of storms,
Forged we were by the words of His,
The ones He spoke before the creation of time:
"I am your blood."
Marks and signs are all around
And they carry the glorious origin from below
So, let us craft the art of the grand putrefaction
And spit out the wine of the shepherd above
Trodding the dissolutive ways, the question stands:
How is there any other path to take
When His reflection lies in every thorn?
Therefore: accept the Fall, enter the Serpent's heart
And pervert the gift of existence!
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