Clandestine Blaze
City of Slaughter
1. Remembrance of a Ruin
Demystified, illusion free, helpless in front of the storm
Doomed to spirited starvation and creeping slow death
It wants only firmly believe in good deeds of new masters
Not in strength evoked from remembrance of ruin
We praise the breed of men of ruin who never forgot the creed of war
We praise the men who remind the other of temporariness of psychotic paradise
We saw the helpless men drown in the abundant joys of the paradise
These obese and impotent men possessed by glutton
Hand in hand with creatures of the same kind
We praise the breed of men of ruin who never forgot the creed of war
We praise the men who remind the other of temporariness of psychotic paradise
They never learned what means to be happy based on dormant unavailingness in plague of peace
Waiting among masses of men in idle they saw no joy, but tormenting doom
We believe history was made from violence
It was built upon destruction
Every other dream shall collapse
When use of force takes its toll
This is the language every creature understands:
Cut of the blade, the sound of the whiplash
Senses are sharpened with unexpect fear
Perfectly understand the ancient language of force
We praise the breed of men of ruin who never forgot the creed of war
We praise the men who remind the other of temporariness of psychotic paradise
2. The Voice of Our Mythical Past
Those commandment Moses had issued to the depraved rabble in the desert
in order to make that horde grasp the rudiment of humanity
These teachings are a deadly poison to our blood
This plague - doctrine from Sinai
One can recognize from the mere necessity of such commandments
which demand nothing more than the barest behavior to claim the designation human beings
to what kind of creatures they had been given
To creatures truly entitled to claim no more, than a resemblance to human beings
And commandments from Sinai were offered as guiding lights for their lives!
Can one understand why some men laughed when they heard of this abominable scribble!
He who slumbers still, whose blood is dull and sour! No glory for him!
All those will be thoughtlessly tramped underfoot by the valiant who rush into battle
So let there be rise out of burning indignation of the nordic blood
Return again and again to lead it into battle against doctrine from Sinai
For those teachings are a deadly poison to our blood blood what only dies with the last northman
We are free of sin - like our ancestors were. Aiming to conquest eternity
He who slumbers still, whose blood is dull and sour, no glory for him!
3. Circle of Vultures
We saw the bodies float towards our shores
Bloated and missing bodyparts, blue faces of drowned children
Women with faces deformed from attacks of feasting beasts
In our hearts was no pity for suffering of non-beings
We saw ice cover the families in crowded small holes
where the had found futile shelter hidden in ruins of once civilized lands
Circle of vultures in the sky equivalent of star of bethlehem
Leads us towards the site of worship to find the old altars
This alter of sacrificial is not shrine one would look in awe
Many men look down in shame and regret but gods roar in thirst for more
All this human flesh slowly deformed - decay that swallows this disease
In our hearts was no pity for the extinction of non-beings
Where is the burial site of humanity?
For we have seen its star rise
In form of vultures circling in sky
...in final mockery of man's decency.
4. Prelude of Slaughter
5. Return into the City of Slaughter
We have foreseen the history cycle reach phase of its most malicious era
Wheels of history fed with fresh flow of blood of the masses
ARISE and go now to the city of slaughter; Into its courtyard wind thy way;
There with thine own hand touch, and with the eyes of thine head,
Behold on tree, on stone, on fence, on mural clay, The spattered blood
and dried brains of the dead.
The thousand golden arrows of the sun, will flash upon thy malison.
We never witnessed rebirth of new man, only illusions and dreams
Men gather around the mound of cadavers, like so many times before
Howling in their disbelief why once again we are asking the same questions
Where men of reason have unleashed their most vile demons
Then wilt thou flee to a yard, observe its mound. Upon the mound lie two, and both are headless -
A Jew and his hound. The self-same axe struck both, and both were flung
Unto the self-same heap where swine seek dung; Tomorrow the rain will wash their mingled blood
Into the runners, and it will be lost in rubbish heap, in stagnant pool, in mud.
Unto the attic mount, upon thy feet and hands;
Behold the shadow of death among the shadows stand.
There in the dismal corner, there in the shadowy nook,
Multitudinous eyes will look
Upon thee from the sombre silence -
The spirits of the martyrs are these souls,
Gathered together, at long last,
Beneath these rafters and in these ignoble holes.
The hatchet found them here, and hither do they come
To seal with a last look, as with their final breath, the agony of their lives, the terror of their death.
Tumbling and stumbling wraiths, they come, and cower there
Their silence whimpers, and it is their eyes which cry
Wherefore, O Lord, and why? It is a silence only God can bear.
It was the flight of mice they fled, The scurrying of roaches was their flight;
They died like dogs, and they were dead!
Thou shalt then meet these men destroyed by sorrow,
Sighing and groaning, at the doors of the wealthy. Proclaiming their sores, like so much peddler's wares,
The one his battered head, t'other limbs unhealthy, one shows a wounded arm, and one a fracture bares.
And all have eyes that are the eyes of slaves, slaves flogged before their masters;
And each one begs, and each one craves: Reward me, Master, for that my skull is broken
Reward me for my father who was martyred!
6. Archeopsychic Fear
Awakening from the mundane real - presence of the hidden
Feeling - we have seen all this before, we can recollect the forgotten
Below our conscious mind terror and disgust is lurking
Memories from archaic past old taboos and instincts return
When dormant awakes, when old fears return
Unpleasant archaic memories, even if we've tried to forget
We can still remember the forest
We were born of the struggle
We were baptized with blood of the enemy
under shadow of grievancies character of man was grown
Still horrified by the primal fears that lead us toward survival
Fed our instincts to give it all now or perish like weak who failed
When dormant awakes, when old fears return
Unpleasant archaic memories - even if we've tried to forget
We can still remember the swamp.
7. Century of Fire
In front of their eyes, obituary was written for once heroic deeds,
With the horror of automatic fire
Grandiose strategies crippled by the hunger of gun
Reaping men in abundant numbers, quickly devoured by fire
Heroic men blinded by aristocratic pride. They could not grasp the hunger of the gun
It's power to dictate against all the virtues to tun former moments of glory into satire of life!
Comrades! We have meeting with the creator
The gamble of life and death where odds are little to none
Comrades! We have meeting with the creator
Where line of fire guides our place, where we crawl in the mud with bloody face
Comrades! how many did you see fall?
As one among those who finally crawl on top of cadaver mountains
...we could see the world with new eyes
...we could hear the world with new ears
It was headless cadaver that spoke to me with oddly familiar language
I knew he was messiah And had message from the creator.
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