RITUAL LYRICS

1. Corpus De La Christi

In the stream of thoughts, you seek the truth of ages. Immense illusions of insidious shadows, are the only thing that you can see. You’ve lost battle with the Astral, but not the war of this world. Stir up the animal pulse beating in your heart, stop the circulation of the world, drown it in the river of fear and lies. Without hope - without despair. You’re one of the kin of the revengeful and merciless, only depths of rocks can satisfy thee. In a deep of your own darkness, you implore yourself for the excuse. And wolves sing your anthem and follow your steps to the spaces where under stream of tears the temples fall down. And from the interior of Earth, you bring the paradise to the light.

2. The Will To Rule

The will to rule that is the question, and those that assert the the „Alter“ is everything for them, only dissimulate. But they are the real hell on the Earth. The disgust, the brake of progress, doctrines about the divine beauty, eh, just a collection of lies, hoard of prophets (fuck, they suck)! Emptiness and dust fall out their mouth. No! Out of their piggish faces. For the whole-life fasting they voluntarily jump into the boiling cattle, and there makes them hot their own „Lord“. Whose bastard are you? Because you refused both you’re mother and even father, and accepted only abstractions. No, you ain’t messiah, you’re nothing, you’re worse than nothing, you’re the evil one. I won’t live to see how the sin of the two millenniums will be redeemed, anyway, we’re the history of decline.

3. Ritus Orgy

I’ve travelled through many countrysides, but still I haven’t found what my soul is yearning for. Searching deep in the paradise and time like sand falls down from my fingers. My life is a neverending dream, I’m waiting to be dispatched forever. There’s namely no-one who could ever be akin to me, I’m yelling and awaiting my echo to disappear. Black colour justifies exactly the state of my soul. Afterwards I’m looking at its mirror… receive nothing but desolation. I’m alone like a pit from pendulum, still dreaming. Dead and wandering in a world of mourning and melancholy. I expect no salvation from heaven. I try abortively to recognize my identity, in a labyrinth of enchanted kingdom. Mysticism… and nothing makes a difference.

4. Siécles Noire

There are four years left as there are four riders of the Apocalypse rushing towards us. And he who foretold their arrival may have travelled through the time. When he will penetrate through the dust of Mars and hunger, misery and fear will spread their reign. The infection is creeping to unleash the war in black it’s tiding sing the plague, there will remain no stone in order, no soil on the dryland no sand on the ground … only a painful choir. The spiral will turn over, because the core is half-rotten. And we must cut it out to provide roots for the new living. I don’t believe he lies. Well, we’ll wait till the seventh month. We’ll allow the gloominess of being to regale over us. And I as an emperor of terror will ignite the „East“, let it burn !!! And let the shattered walls fall down

5. Stonekeep

6. Thou Human Kind

I can clearly see the space, I’ve been always yearning to dwell. In a coexistence of ages and ages, there I might find out who I am. Riding my steed around by the obscure castle where the black dragon’s pirouetting, upon the tower’s tip, like the vulturian creature and its victim. Getting a hold of him right after I’ve taken my horse’s saddle off, he’s waving so far and gracefully. Gliding through the air as quick as the northern frost whizzes. I allow my desire to regale me over as I inspect my realm. His back and scales are so hard like nature’s cruelness. Nevertheless ‘tis beautiful watchich pauperized worms ‘neath me called „The Human Beings“, though I had to die to be reborn. I used to be one of them, deprived my humanity because of my divergence to descry the purity of the light. I was trampled dead by horse’s hooves. However, I do not spare any minute as I hear my winged barasir’s tired though happy wheezing. And I have a goal to fly towards unknown hights, I tremble, I shiver. Suddenly I caught sight of her - my fay Thera, whose lips and gleaming eyes make me burn with fire. She’s giving me her palm, so tender that I’m unable to give any testimony. Leaving my beast and dancing in the wind with her, upon the horizon which is getting further. In this whirl full of brightness (and luster), I’m gently clutching your hands. We’re getting closer more and more… and finally I’m kissing you (she’s kissing me)

7. Hesperus

[Instrumental]

8. Funeral Of My Own

End, the end of my doubts that led my way so much. The purity of my feelings that hide in itself. I’m my god, my master who I trust, this is my black soul that survives forever. I don’t escape out of these empty whiles, no, I don’t want to see the funeral of my own I. And slowly burning flowers of sorrow, and to be drowning in a painful frost, my dissolving body. I’ve got my own world where I live lonely, there I might find unknown voices I know. The only one whose competent to command me, that’s me - I’m my king and slave too. Neverending questions and trials (and tribulations), to , to be ruler of the horror, the prophet. I fumble in a nook of creation, wandering blind, than suddenly descry what I am born from. Shall gather gifts at my feet, I pick ‘em up but throw them away. Why should I proclaim any one for me, I don’t intend ‘cause I’m not the one who will redeem this world. I still open gates of my orchard, right there where my dreams flow. Whoever’d like to enter has to take this advice: among those fragrant flowers grow also the thorn-planted ones and which are they? … only I know.

9. Visage Of A Degenerated

I transmit my soul, now I’m a void stooge in the claws of a pretentious benefactor. Creator of thoughtless thesis and spurious doctrine. I’m a miserable orthodox moron, I’m degenerated with my absurdity. I’ve lost everything what’s worthy of being honest. My tongue was torn out, my brain was knocked out, because they split my skull open with their cross. What is a word, what is a thought for me ? Though I’m only a figure of this spiritual farce. And the really wonderful myths … My body has already thrilled. Thinking about a clean soul, entering the precious heaven paradise. Fortunately, my hand is led by the saviour’s „true being line“. Oh, what a dull asceticism has clouded over me, this is gratefully my real form. However, here’s my tragedy that I’m too near-sighted to show characteristics of myself. Though I can’t say ‘cause I’m not. I’m merely a fragment, sperm of fatality deformed by the what I so rapturously worship.

10. Circle Of Witches

I was standing surrounded by forest and thicket, right there - inside of magic. In the middle of the circle where five ways were streaming towards the real knowledge. The energy, the power, I almost rooted into the soil I grew up from. And she was staring me - no!!! Through my body. Like she wanted to penetrate into me, and I completed devoted myself to her desires. I love the feeling, though, it will never repeat with her again. The bug in my head is eating me away and doesn’t let me sleep. Perhaps she understood that, maybe she will?! But think she justified my love to her. Her long hair bewitched me, she was (and still) is the right enchantress, although she didn’t know. I suffer from that I didn’t have the time to tell her that. First woman who understood my feelings (?). Yes, I know she was the right one. And leaves one the trees were whispering her what I had exactly on my mind…

11. Heretic

I’m back again in animal form. Don’t be afraid to look into my eyes, because you’re me and I am you. We stay on the same level and I spit fire on them who are beneath me. I curse them with my bloody plague full of darkness. I scorn their scarred lives, thrusts on heart … ? Let the light of their existence get dark. I’m a heretic and I will always look like this in their eyes. Nevertheless, I ask whether or not to jump into death’s embrace is blasphemy ? I don’t want to be alive or dead, are we evil refusing that ? To be sure, nothing is worthy. The curse is signed with my name to make them understand that the world spins in another way.

12. Those Remaining Whose Spirit Is Worthy Of The Light

Emptiness everywhere, vast cool frosty plains. Perhaps we’re on the edge of this sorrowful millennium. All that is alive is dying, grief and lamentation echo far in the distance. Look! Over the horizon, there mighty winds blow which bring swirls of dirt and dust. That cover living contours (in the case they exist). This a panorama stirs up apprehensions and fear if those remaining whose spirit is worthy of the light… Fire is flaming out of our mouths which will sear the blind eyes. And will ruin the supports propping up the celestial empire. Oh, lord - you who’s embodied delusion into the form of sacrament, your days are numbered. Devil tore spurious vestment down from your body and threw that among the folk you poked their eyes out with your poisoned claws. Dying humankind, listen! As they tell you that you are made to subscribe the Devil, you’re subjugated to God. Lucifer, we know that we are the only ones who know our destiny. Luminous rays of wisdom are streaming from us. They are the veil which will cover the hoard. We shall pierce the horde, and it shall die.

13. In Absentia Deo

[Instrumental]






RITUAL LYRICS