As the gift of life turns to curse
From the confines of sepulchres
Voices for vengeance cry.
The unborn smell death in the wombs
Still, we warble of the light to come
Yet hope faids as the dark prevails.
As we ourselves with prayers blind,
Words of salvation and comfort known are not.
Can there be no light which shadow will not make?
The depth to which the gory scars go suits
The length of time in which they do not heal.
There lies hope within faith
The strong last and the awakened remain.
Let them fall in misery.
Compassion be the vice of us
And thus we resent it all.
Aloud their folly, ye shall be as ye are
Begone you warps, you bended minds
Fear shall not come upon me.
Ends one, begins another
There is light before thine eyes
A light desired, much desirable.
- Via Descendens
- ...Of Grandiose Fevers An..
- Luciferian Elegy
- Towering Grief Behemoth
- Serpent Wisdom