The Ruins Of Beverast
Rain Upon The Impure

1. 50 Forts Along The Rhine
2. Soliloquy Of The Stigmatised Shepherd
3. Rapture
4. Blood Vaults (I - Thy Virginal Malodour)
5. Soil Of The Incestuous
6. Balnaa-kheil The Bleak
7. Rain Upon The Impure

1. 50 Forts Along The Rhine

An old failure is redressed
Barred is all sight into the West
Not to let us foresee what is brewing there

Silence is deceptive
Hooves of iron paw

An ancient silent fog
To blur our castles' silhouettes
To hide the gathering troops

Black fleets explore the northern lines
Fifty forts along the Rhine

Fuming clefts cross Westphalia
Command from Castra Vetera

It was late at night when the bugle call resounded
And blew forth a red storm
To bear squadrons of Southern aggressors
Transcending our silent banks now so rageous

Ploughing the valleys in slobbering droves
Foes in Sugambria!
The ancient map is redrawn in blood
Led by our once insurmountable waters

We learnt that war has become art
Within three years of suffering and barbarism

Lamentamur Germaniam Inferiorem!

The Northern eyesight is extinguished
The Western limbs are dead
The Southern torso is crippled
East cannot defend.

2. Soliloquy Of The Stigmatised Shepherd

How long have I been wandering uphill?
My lord, did you paint these meadows?
They are colourless

Roar... agonizing distant noise

Look at me
I kneel down before thee
Bow my head
Cover my ears

This soil did never alter in two thousand years
I wonder if it is you who hunts them -
Or are they following me...?

This is a burden I was never taught to heave...

To you I implore, oh father!
Take this noise away from me!
Save me!

Father, make (of) me the seed for a silent meadow

Limp as a doomed horse I resume my way
In tears, on chafed limbs

There is no herb to be laid
Upon the stigmata of immortality's burden

Father, make (of) me the seed for a silent meadow.

3. Rapture

"O Head of blood and wounds
In pain and deathly scorned
Arouse their bliss and rapture
With a crown of thorns adorned."

4. Blood Vaults (I - Thy Virginal Malodour)

Red moon returns...
For the blood that dried on the dungeon walls
For centuries of insidious estrangement
That witnessed a slow disfigurement of pale faces

Unfamiliar with perversions to desecrate
Their pious deeds

Red moon returns...
To rip open the scars of the soul that vowed
Laid bare for burning
Like a process of moult

Sanctified flesh breeds dense crimson fume
And reeks...

An eerie procession
Descending into darkness godforsaken
Intoning solemn psalms of sadism and malevolence
Sing to sleep tormented bodies that writhe in horror
Leave flesh ghastly perished, and screams fading unheard

Red moon returns...
Lets the mind be swallowed
That addicts to claustrophobia
Thus it is written in unread books...

And may the bells awake the residual days
Merely wounds are to be licked
That weep with blood, not with wine.

5. Soil Of The Incestuous

I am
The wandering moon and sun
The rabbit and the snake
The virgin and the rapist
My shadow

The path of the mind's eye shall never bifurcate...

I enter
The church and the graveyard
The storms and the rainbows
The soul and the flesh
My shadow

The path of the mind's eye shall never bifurcate...

I suffer
The rotten lower skin
The wandering moon and sun
The sin and altruism
My shadow

(...painfully roaming the soil of the incestuous...)

The bloom will fail to come
I wear reflected scars
Until I smash the mirror.

6. Balnaa-kheil The Bleak

My nakedness shall not ignite your lust...

Here, at the absolute end of your withered romances
Heralds of the Great J'rmungand break at the North Massif
And becloud your dwarfish horizon...

7. Rain Upon The Impure

You who first cast the stone
Are you adorned with wings?
How could you silently suffer
The sight of your dreams' wreckage?

Your harvest is poor
Your soul bleeds
Your eyes won't ever see

When the bread is broken
Wounds are nailed into your palms

You who first cast the stone
Where is the splendour
That once you wore so proudly?

Your limbs are weak
Your path is short
Your breath is putrid

When the wine is offered
Disgust is drying up your throat

You who are without sin
Who was to block the left hand path
When it became the last resort?

Your speech is mute
Your tunes are sad
Your voice will die down awfully

The day heaven laments your failure
With noise of rain (lashing down) upon the impure.

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