Weak is your mind and weak are your words "Destroyer of lives" - Ha! I spit on your whorish ways Your dearest lies are holy, yet undivine You shall stand
Through the crests of open oceans As the heavens plunge the earth A soaring flight in breathless torment Condor soul observes its birth The dreaded dream
Coiled embalmed wretched face of evil Lies sinned and furied, in spite of it's glory All matters sewn into one prophet I nail this one seed, and crawl
A wind of ashes mixed awe and wonder for these The yearner, the hallows, the spectre and I And the arrows pointed to the core As songs are sung for the
Soaring spell, burns the scattered spawn Enraged journey, through Heaven's yell As the wrath of Satan, escapes Hell It drowns the waters, erects their
Sense destructive deathcore Float amongst the dying Strive to create spaces Deteriorating realm If only I'd been blessed If only I'd accepted Christ
Boiling deluge sweeps the landscape Seething waters rush Elegant waves of devastation Erects then plunge upon life We enshrine this glorious black deluge
Rise! It is our will to awaken the "Dead" Crawl up from you graves Rise! It is our will to rid you of all chains With these words, with this speech...
Troops are thrashing onwards To rape all holy land Seek victims as the Sun descends Damnation is at hand The sound of killing threatens the weak Slashed
A parade of ghosts brought these innocent feelings to where innocent itself was brought to. To view the rush of female tempests. My Sculptured face turns
Upon the darkest of thrones The true God is visible The filthy sound of ten thousand (necro) morbid deaths Smear my body with your destructive visions
Sourceless, rythmless, heartless. I scan the desert. Since I, in my beasthood saw the dancers there. As my hands, two tiny figures, came visible, Like
Come swarm with me, come grind the carver. Come paw the skin, come slay the harvest. Come lick the sky, come reach the heavens. Each grain of flesh, each
Intoxicate yourself Be drunken without cease Remembrance drifts in the frozen wind The slave of hunger, now enjoy being free Sordid grace In a torn soul
Merry, you may be. For I am the flesh in your tounge. Create to yourself, images of these glass-eyed figures, and expose to me, your skin - whorish as
Leave me with my tragedies, those who stick to me like wet leaves in the (dry) sunlight. My face is frozen, byt my eyes still see, for I am in your dreams
Oh, how I faint when I call upon your aid. Feeling the loss of burden and hearing cries from flowers raped. When you alone set kingdom on fire, I admire