As wolves or bats Through forests or the heights Fragmented into rats Causing loathing and fright Ours are the late hours Ours are the dark powers By a gaze of ours Any mortal cowers In the shape of beast With enhanced might In the cloak of mist Thru the ether of night Ours are the late hours Ours are the dark powers By a kiss of ours The blood of mortals showers Cold and pale is our face White as moonlight But tight is our embrace And sharp is our bite Beyond god's grace Deprived of the sun's sight While we feed on their race We shall avoid the scythe Old Yet preserved in eternal youth... Cold Yet how easily we do seduce... Bold Though ever absent is our pulse... Those two in the neck Are points of no coming back... Ours are the late hours Ours are the dark powers Among the withering flowers Rise our ivory towers
Towards daily duty drowsy I go Even before the sun to his own attends When cold winds blow and whistle with sorrow The very last moments before night ends. With only the moon to witness my doom Bound to come soon in this night of Autumn Litten by scarce streetlights, with their shy glow That dares not shed its beam too far, the land Lies covered by such thick fog one now vows That the horizon is but a legend. With only the moon to witness my doom Bound to come soon in this night of Autumn In these moments before the fog dispels When the sky blurs and dyes all blue at dawn Building a bridge between worlds parallel And we breathe deep the clouds, which are still down My body follows to the sunny hell Yet in spirit, in this magic I drown While routine shall keep my now empty shell With the mists my soul shall forever dwell...
Now that the ever burning sphere Down the horizon disappears Nocturnal beasts regain the earth. They celebrate with joy night's birth Waking me up from dreamless sleep To quench this thirst for blood so deep. The night is now young... ...but for how long? Hunting in the night so lonely I wander accompanied only By the bright light of the moon. High it shines, a glow in the gloom, While on pitiful mortals I prey Until the dark skies bleed sunrays. The night is now young... ...but for how long? The wolves howl and low hoot the owls. In praise of the newborn their chanting goes. Yet the time never ceases to flow... Oh child, why do you have to grow?
I call thee forth, Adversary from the South! Accuser! Thou who restraineth not thy mouth! Ever opposite, mighty Lord of fire, O Satan, grant me that which I desire! Come forth, lightbringer, Angel from the East! Thou whose glow penetrates the thickest mist! O shining-most of stars, Spirit of the air, Lucifer Morningstar, grant me thy glare! Thine is Earth's mastery, Prince from the North! Ruler of the field's beasts, I call thee forth! One without master, whom no one can tame, O great Belial, answer to thy name! From whirlpools emerge, Dragon from the West! O raging sea, grant me that which I quest! As thy name is pronounced loud by these lips, Come Leviathan, serpent out of the deeps!
In the madness of day we scream Yet no matter how loud One can never surpass the din Of the roaring crowd In the dead of night we weep Yet even then no one will hear For all are too asleep To notice our tears So we turn our pain into song To touch their hearts Yet it's not until long After we depart That any among Them acknowledges our art
Undeniable technique precisely executed Under the thick fog of frantic beats: Turbulence of endless fall. A sonorous chaos dense enough To overcome the outside cacophony; Whence emerges the melody, subtle yet sublime, Joined by a voice resembling nothing human. "Noise" to dirty ears, the message is clear: Utter contempt for the lesser's judgement, Unyielding reluctance of submission To the appreciation of inferior sensibilities. Disregarded as inextricable by the profane, Used only to the obvious and cheap; Exclusive of sensitive souls who perceive How ephemeral the prevalent is. (Chorus:) Forged in the blackest of metals known to men On boilers burning with Hell's own flames The fiery sword of song and word is raised And the world's foundations set ablaze.
"Not by rancour does one kill but by laughter." Nietzsche's Zarathustra Murder is not a crime as taught: The only crime is to get caught. Murder ought to be planned and thought From every angle. Sin? The sin is to be meek. Cowards turn the other cheek! One can't afford to be weak Here in this jungle. For wolves, to slaughter sick sheep Is an act of citizenship. It's a moral duty to strip The vile from their lives. Eye for sight and tooth for jaw: My reading of the jungle's law. Even when it's served cold shall My vengeance arrive. Murder is not a crime as thought: The only crime is to get caught. Though this days 'tis better to kill One too many than one too few...
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