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
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