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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