Cult Of Erinyes Æstivation 1. Death as Reward I came up with the laws of all Facing the wrath of the Mother herself I was alone walking this endless desert Forty days and forty nights Lightblinded A sun so bright its warmth is violent Darkness, comfort me Soothing hunger and thirst Inhumane ordeal For one old man For one flawful man Who am I to question God Who am I to question the Holy Who am I to be the chosen Who am I Inhumane ordeal For one flawul man I am but the rejects of life Deemed to death as reward Hosanna in excelsis «Come back, God – how long do we have to wait? and treat your servants with kind- ness for a change Make up for the bad times with some good times: we’ve seen enough evil to last a lifetime.» 2. Corruption The lower the stairs go, the higher the mind works Into an endless negative thought which God mocks And even though the Devil can appreciate the trial It drains the life whom one would carry in a vial Prison of misanthropy Haze of infinite fog Evanescent skies, a darkened green, thy doom has come There would be no angel saving you Burning lungs, cracking throat, spitting liquid charcoal There would be no angel saving you Mirror of dying souls / A cell for the weak Walls of lies. Beneath them all is an untold world Masked by the corruption of words Clothed in fake awe, and horrendous rictus belt Unstoppable until Sol Victus Est Sed Sol Invictus Est / Solum Homo Est La puanteur de cette cellule est putride, pas plus qu’un millier de cadavres rampants. Un ciel pourri qui règne ci-bas, respire n’est que futile, comme une nouvelle luxure. Parce que c’est ce que vous vous êtes Foutus sur la gueule, vous inspirerez et rêverez d’un cœur vide. Uniquement celui des hommes fut conquis. Icare tombant jusqu’à la fin des temps. La vision n’est que vérité. The Sun is dead / Long live the Night Fiery eyes, a constant blaze in the iris A sense of pure annihilation (a) Corrupted heart is only humane 3. Broken Conclave For every second in prayer, let us count the dead For every fake tear falling, let us mourn the dead For all hour wasted in questions, let us remember the dead For all years wasted in living, let us greet our death Truth does not lie in your books, nor in your wealth No words, no woman, no man no goddess for your absolution the sins of thy Father in you, even facing holy Death Liars, beggars, there would be no redemption And with great vengeance I break your conclave as I break your bones There are not enough flames in Hell for your sins to be atoned I will crush your edifice with rage and fury Bow to my being! For there is no turning back no second chance, no forgiving. Forsaken, your existence shall be naught Burnt, your works shall be naught Destroyed, your mind shall be naught Voided, your spirit shall be naught You shall be forsaken, abandoned from all You shall not be remembered, suppressed from writings Your tomes and sanctuaries shall be burnt to the ground Your existence shall be erased to oblivion I broke your conclave as I broke your bones 4. Healer - Fever Desire, thirst, hunger Sainte trinité de toutes les valeurs Silence, doubt, mental alcove trinité des esprits pauvres Absolute freedom of (all) acts Aucune peur des attaques With unwavering beliefs Sans besoin d’un esquif C’est un réveil malsain et persistant Une froideur perçante, sans notion de temps Introspection noir charbon, spasmes sans contrôle Manque de raison, horrible jeu des deux pôles Oh cette insatiable nausée me détruit corps et âme, tellement Ce manque de lumière pure, aveuglante, vive est constant Les yeux clos de force, et l’habitude à la noirceur qui déteint Au final il n’y a rien qui ne me retient Fire Then I would shake the earth until oblivion I would man the world till extinction Everything we’ve settled needs a new leader You are all sick and I am the healing fever I am your healer I am your fever I am life I am death 5. Nothing Is Owed to the Void Chaque seconde compte. Chaque pierre compte. Chaque goutte compte. Un millier de ronces, d’épines. Une par une. Ne plus se mouvoir. Ne plus être capable de vociférer quelques cris. La gorge oblitérée. La raison s’estompe, les yeux se révulsent. Le souverain néant. L’absolu noir se naît d’une étincelle médiocre pour engloutir toute lumière. Il n’y y a plus rien. Rien que le néant. La mort se fait entendre. I collect little pieces of bones, discarding their flesh Meticulous works, absolute arts, the craft of gods afresh With needles I carve them with my name and signs of sins Every second of pain within, is another second of adrenalin I come forth / Dreadful black / Pleasant Death / Come to me Nothing is owed to the Void It is all during conscience Nothing is owned from the Void She comes to you 6. Nihil Sacrum Est Naught. Il n’y a rien. Plus rien. Let’s end this excuse of a life by a nice cut Sulphur, fire: His light shines through me Let’s finish this useless joy with a second cut Turning all fucking hope upside down, you bore Nothing There is not. The absolute void in my chest. The only sanctity I devote myself to is Death. For it is the only one which never deceives. I am Death, in its glory. «Il n’y a plus rien. Il n’y a plus rien du tout. Tout est détruit. Tout. Il n’y a plus rien. Plus rien du tout.» Si j’avais le choix entre te sauver Et te regarder crever comme une larve Sachant des dus, tes affronts, ton existence Je n’hésiterais pas à te jeter la première pierre Car ici, le rien est sacré. «Il n’y a plus rien. Il n’y a plus rien du tout : Tout est détruit. Tout. Il n’y a plus rien. Plus rien du tout.» Et c’est dans ce repère, bien en bas de ton confort Dans cette cave pourrie, que tu pourras trouver un corps Un cadavre encore vivant, démembré, infesté de toutes les merdes du monde Et des milliers d’années depuis, il scande «Nihil Sacrum Est !» Car le rien naît sacré