Akrotheism
Behold the Son of Plagues
1. Sepsis Ex Nihilo
2. Antimatter as I
Abominable carcass, decapitated inhuman birth. Infallible, splendorous shine, an angelic flame, burning again. Cathartirial furnace, purified boiled blood. Showers of faith in ashes of sin, a joyful reward of redemption. Adorned with the coal of a messiah. A light collapsing the yoke of man. Melting mortal rot with sacred mirth. Morbid radiance warms the orchard of humanity. Flourishing in corruption and every kind of life, pray praise his name. Intrapsychic sadism, an infected pulse is pressing the skull. Neurotic spasms, roaring within, overthrow, severing soul. Incinerated ripped heads, prophets of his come. Filthy tongues, kissing in vain the emblems of a dying religion. Bless us who licked the acid tears from your majestic icon. Bless us in the spell of your perpetual wrath. And let us be the first to walk under your sun of ethereal decay. You our only son and carrier of our dreams. Incessant termination, in rust arise. A holy injection to the conscious of subordinating beings. Carcinogen transfusion, taking away the anguish of mankind's sorrow, dehumanizing psalm. Entreat for a death supreme. Hand in hand the narcoleptic priests are preaching about his birth while trembling in forgiving epilepsy. In paranoid confusion, they placing their mouths upon the utter of blasphemy, mangling everything within. Communing the flesh and blood of the antimatter God. Cataclysmic flood of beneficial rays of faith. Celebrate a rapping diving, a glorious and intense sanction of souls.
3. Hanged in the Shaft of the Abyss
Behold your martyrdom! Shrine of betrayal, erasing of sins through violent oaths. Cursed silence, confessing death in flawless dearth. Sovereign solemn void fulfils the shame like a plague from an ancient scar. Verminous whole of anomalous nativity is trembling in endless reviving. Vague delectation of faith under prayers of myriad woes. Shaft of great villain rebirth, degraded monument of infallible chastisement. Well of frantic cleansement. Rising in eternal decay. And dark is the essence of all things, famished for failure. Towards the blight of my being, swarming in the pit of sin. Martyr of man, servent of his highness, skinless straw. Hanging in reverse, suffers a high devotion. Immaculate terror lord, bearer of my inscrutable fate. Rots in front of me. Hovering in abjection on the edge of that bottomless shaft. In an insane blessing of contrition, a stab of reliance enthrones my hideous affinity to him. Dire divine galvanizes the vessel of salvation with a mire of manure pouring from the hangman's seed. Pouring from his fanatic moans of hate, feeding my soul. And I am god an aborted god. I am his sacred ghost. A dog on a chain, waiting in rabidity to commune the venom of his obscene wounds. Under the fever of greed, under a ruthless thirst. I benefit my self, by devouring his holy flesh. Pure from his encharist. Connecting circles of psychic murders. Create his own loathsome chain, holds him in abyss. Spilling scoria with grace, to wash his legs. A lethal miasma of deconsecration. As I consume the divine cancer nurtured in the depths of his spleen. His eyes hermetically tied, keep within, buried, a testament of hatred and revenge. You the seed of our decay, our mortal child. Be the preacher and the third hypostasis of our damnation.
4. Behold the Son of Plagues
I am sanctifier, harbringer of dispensational joy. The prayer in your mouth is my conviction of rupture. I am the truth abides in Lethe's waters. An ocean of vileness and you have drowned inside of me. I, the great destroyer, the eklisiastis of your sacrilegious soul. Believe in me! You, cancer to my superiority and woeful cry of my death. I am the architect of your malignant being. The garment of my vengeance became your microcosm. And my eyes became the broken mirror that reflects your most odious face. I, the inner diamonion of your theanthropic nature that brings disharmony to your disgusting aura. My scythe upon your head is forgiveness. So obey me to be saved and taste the bread of my best harvest. Kiss the hands of your lord. Fill my chalice of grandiosity with your unholy blood. Work out for your salvation.
5. Subhuman's Anabaptism
We call you, remember us in your sacrifice of bedience. Inner savior, our kinsman redeemer god. Rise from the ancient dark and from the vexation of our spirit. Be the Elohim dressed with the veil of our perversion and seal our name in your glorious book of life. Be our son in afterlife and believe in us. Repellent faces in masses vomit the semen of their Lord. The carrier of the wooden tomb, shall this burden be mine. On-knees surrounding by the gratefully locusts of the ages. Sing by your ears the hymns of salvation. Mind morphine injected in overdoses through your white eyes. Petrified by the majesty of nihil. And now, wide open, served to the vultures of lust.
Submerse into the waters. The sub-humans Anabaptism. The chrism of purity. Ablution in the name of fatalism. Be clean enough from the greediness. You are now famished for another piece of his body. And you drank of his blood. Those with no eyes shall see the sunbeams of hope. And those with no tongue shall speak the truth. Behold the fall of all creation. The Jordan river became mud. Grab the whore's hand, with the same you held the stone.
Enslaved by the apprehension of hate and anger. A God with human passions?
6. Flagellum Made Catharsis
Set these wounds, let your filthy scars to reflect your rapturous soul once again. Vomiting mirth, great absolution. Enjoy pleasure through punishment. Betray your faithless god! Violent perfection, bloody argument spreading the shame of a kneeling slave. Holy incision, under the sun of covered decay, comforting your prayers of despair. Capacitate your cankerous glare to see the light of sordid rebirth and slowly deteriorate in an anguished corpse. Merciless reaping of skin until you will be clean in the eyes of your lord. Garment of vengeance a contrition soil. Behold the whip of flawless execution. Rejoice in suffering bless. Be the martyr of a corrupted fate. Be the lie of a leper mouth. Be the choice of a dying mind and heavily breath the air of divine dirt. Be the whisper of a pervasive ambition. Be the voice of a new born daimonic son. Everlasting mechanism of cerebral darkness. A printing machine of stitching alms, examines your sinful body. Resurgering divine truths from the hideous viscera of your subordinate being.
7. Salt of Grace
If I could anoint your corpse with the my myrrh of my perversion. Would I be worth enough to confess your death? If my hidden prayers were strong enough to be the holy claws that reap your flesh and leave you naked before the eye of redemption. Would you remember me at the time of seed? But unless I see you bleed. I cannot be your disciple in apolytrosis. As I am smelling your death, as I am consuming the drug of your ecstatic faith. I am gettling closer to touch venialness. If I could built a sadistic church with your blood and bones. Would you come to me in devotion and slay your soul? An unyielding suffering, an ongoing deteriorate of damnation. Is our temple of grace, is our temple of pain and of Cathartirial sacrifice to touch venialness. If the magnitude of your distorted stare is the disformal reflection of my spirit, the hideous mirroring of my daimonic nature. I can only exorcize my self through your extinction. If I was exiled in the desert of your devouring corruption. Would I be worth priest enough to preach your putrefaction? If I could held a handful of forgiveness. Would you be my suicidal son and my sheep among the beasts?
8. Wine of Blasphemies
Rise in death, filth and pain. Behold the great whore is opening her legs once again. Recumbent on her altar. She was fancier than the shining wealth of gods. Come to her in belief, praise her will and the fevers of her swollen dreams. Nothing greater for a man, than to taste the labor that his hands had wrought through the ecstatic magnificence of her sacred fuck. So I've felt into my knees and I've sucked your honor and glory from her rotten cunt. Hordes of pilgrims crawl with a faithful lust to feast on her flesh. A swarm of beggar blinds searching their light into the shrine of her graceful vagina. We the deferential rats, nailing their greedy teeth to her redemptory skin, yearning for a sinful end. And she the mother of holy benevolence, feed us with the wine of her hallowed wounds. Drunken us in a terrifying divinity. Lift us high in her macrocosm. And I've worked hard for my share to her perfect love.
9. Send Us to Swines
Prayers through stuttering growls. Infallible grace of malignant narcissism in a vertigo of madness. Monstrous psalms beyond woeful hopes and truths. Gathering of a myriad worms, inside a mind of devotion. Leaving their noxious fluids, completing the pus of a sickening deliverance. Swollen head of heavenly retribution. Internal termination, sacred humiliation.
Generations come and go but the dreadful void of inward desolation abided forever to molest the essence of being. A sacrilegious spawn of esoteric depravation is prospering from the depths of cerebral darkness, flowing in the arteries of an unshriven carrion. Giving life for just a moment to suffer in the light of frightful absolution. Kneeling in trembling silence, under the magnificence of a clamorous faith. Beneath a sun of a morphine sanctification, shining from the void of aneerie empty eye. Burning in righteous felony, flickering in putrefaction. Enlighten by the vision of a dream figure in the nightmare of a dying god. And rotten is the eternity that lies in the drug of egocentric penitence. Expressed with infected spasms of obedience to the point of subconscious assumption. Ecofantric beating of a secular ghost. Hierophant of tupitude tormenting human flesh, spitting blasphemies to the ailing hypostasis of idolater subordination. Running towards the edge of nihilism. Committing a salvific suicide, you mongrel swines and suppurative pigs.
10. To Swarm Deserted Away (Ved Buens Ende cover)
To Swarm Deserted Away
I swarm deserted away,
like glass...
Warm, and as fevers,
I am as flame.
I am death...
For I, I weave our blasphemies...
Witches painted me,
Like the mysteries created me...
Like where the poets breathe,
I were woven into blasphemies...
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