City of Slaughter

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

Submitted by Cyberwaste — Apr 25, 2025

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!

Submitted by Celtic Frost — Apr 25, 2025

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.

Submitted by Morgoth — Apr 25, 2025

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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!

Submitted by The Void — Apr 25, 2025

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.

Submitted by SerpentEve — Apr 25, 2025

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.

Submitted by Grave666 — Apr 25, 2025