Once Was Not

This track is instrumental.

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We are... We are aware that we are; We are Breathing... This is our present Exhalatation, (and) then comes Inspiration ...wait for it... For thee, mortals, a cataclysm Wherein all (that) thou knowest shall die, For in this Kingdom where everything dies, Where even the Sky is mortal, What is Not and has always been, For thee must never be Thine ancient gods in their Pantheons will cease to be, utterly, and the Stars in thy Firmanent: all will die and thy Prayers for Deliverance: all will die and be One in a nucleon ...Reductio ad Absurdum... Momentum Continuum Sacramentum Sacriligium ...Fires mortal Terra... One final Perfect Day. From aAll to Absense in one Breath It is all One Single Grain: It is all One, And Nevermore is a new Beginning...

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 23, 2025

After the Fire, their bodies at Rest, beyond mere Blood, beyond mere Breath: their terror summons the vapours of Fright, a mating call to things of the night The Things they'll become after they Die have alled to us before their Time: the Dark Horse of Dreams has brought them here thos this Ur-Place that feeds on fear, where the only light comes from their Bones that Glow, now: all their flesh is Gone (A) Voice between Rivers Sings (the Truth that Destroys Then it Laughs like a Dog (The) Voice Between Worlds has Existence to Void, and it Dwells in their Bones « That which was Drawn in the sane for me by the Man of Blood whose Hand never ends, Herals all Mortality And He-Who-Waits-beneath-the-Scream »... oh, to be possessed of Carrionshine to Dream past the limits of carcasskind The Prayer goes « Unite to Thee thy Bones- What appertains to Thee is Complete »

Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Apr 23, 2025

Oh come all ye unfaithful, decaying and wretched, to this Cradle of impiety to lay your impure heads Fare thee well or fare thee ill: one way or another some blood shall spill What to do? Inter? Cremate all those who've died from all the hate from this Execrable Aggregate that nurtures the corrupt? Proselytes, anchorites, crusaders, wet me with your Cathar kiss Bow to them? Crawl for them. those loathsome Mahometic effigies? No! Once, there were boundaries, The lay of the land was well defined. Came a hell of rats, and now « le temps entre chien et loup » is nigh. « Manquerais-je Fidélité dans mon Pays? Jamais! Cessons nos reculs pour nous trouver des bastions dans des terres loitaines : les fauves nous harcélent à tout jamais. c'est donc à nous de passer à l'Action. » In houses on fire, where everyone dies, on the Killing Grounds of war, in the torn fresh and flies I know I saw you there In the Heart of Disease, where Love is a stone, on the faces of those whose hate is as bone I know I saw you there, where Hatred rules supreme

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 23, 2025

Das ist der fluch der mächtigen Let us settle with swords The affairs of men: Violence is the answer: «Sis im blut»... Eisblut! In this soiled world We see aspects of damnation On the faces of the killed Instead of gratitude This psychology may seem A bit baroque at first But what a boon it be When the demons come With time and telling, memory dulls Of rotting boys with empty skulls: All sons of ares, sons of mars Whose flesh be worms, whose souls be stars Myriads of combat corpses The eggshell skeletons of men Debris over which weep Their stricken families: Parents, wives and children Their heroic children Their heroic sufferings Do strengthen hearts And moisten eyes Know ye not (have ye forgotten?) Your place in the earth? We know (as we've always known) (That) there can be no place For such as ye Upon our blameless, benighted earth The breath of the dead Fills the stagnant breeze Now, the world is perfect Those left behind still weep Should the question of terror arise We'll draw our hate down from the skies We live beneath a carcass moon That makes a horror of all days For on this battlefield Even the wicked get worse than they deserve But then it is the curse of the great To have to walk over corpses Es war schon immer der Fluch der mächtigen Über Leichen schreiten zu müssen With our deeds of carnage We hail bloodshed our immortal king

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 23, 2025

They are living candles and we will watch them burn Their frantic pace of dying is so hard to maintain Into the arms of Solace you go: (we sing the screams of men;) "make a Joyful Noise unto the Lord," scream and scream again Age or Beauty: which to burn? There's always room for one less; Suffering is the Master from Whom we learn: keep this Secret and be blessed In these, the last days before Revelation, as Existence is fultile and Failure is not an option, they bleed for Love of the Body, and they die for the Body; now, only silence remains... a sylvan silence The sick, the dying, the dead, the rotting, the damned... ...the burning Their lives, as such, are but a trifle; their sacrifices, much like compost, will help to nourish the Seeds of the Future; this august Body cannot cease to grow "Arbeit macht frei" until you die; welcome to permanent downtime They are living candles and we will watch them burn out All these small Deaths of mind, of body... Rest is for the weak

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 23, 2025

We, who end lives with a wink and a smile and a song in our hearts and a twinkling eye, do so with a noble purpose in mind: to thin out the rabble of mankind We are never where you think we'll be the shadow underneath your sink our teeth into your fragile flesh is ours to do with as we "Please, oh, help me!" Here come the cadaver dogs; they'll find where the dead girl lies; unlike us, they'll be soft with her like she were made of eyes "Street musician found strangled in the trunk of a car," "Gutted vagrant found hanging from a tree in the park," "Naked infant found frozen on some steps leading down," "Headless foetus found rotting on the roof of a house" Recycle the body pits and human cluster dumps filled with the burnt, the stabbed, and the lucky machinegunned There are no victims, just landfill statistics where overpopulation threatens us all; "Disordered Thinking:" is that what they call it? So, our culling (of) the herd has left you appalled? (Or,) see it as self-defense, if no other way: encroaching humans number our days; probe the young for signs to no effect: serial killing's not a birth defect Here come the cadaver dogs: they'll find where the dead man lies; unlike us, they'll be soft with him, like he were thinning ice

Submitted by Finntroll — Apr 23, 2025

Touched by Jeqon the Inciter, well-rounded womanflesh doth tempt the Angels of the Watch to sin, and their Sons are Nephilim Thrice Blessed are we in His Garden: we have the Word, our health, our kin: as we "go forth and multiply," we take from each other's skin Endogamy: the Choice of millions in (all their) Elemental ugliness: in the echoes of Repitition, Imperfection sires itself Nothing in Life has any business being Perfect: it's an affront to anyone with good taste Choice is Divine, so choose Family over stangers; why trouble the Waters of the gene pool for a mate? Carbon Vessel carbon content carbon copy ...Carbonize... Like a lump between to surgeons, Man quivers 'twixt desire and need; the Law is the Will, and we've chosen the Kingdom of Which we would be In filial Sect, we are Genesis Incarnate: in our faces, see Manifest Destiny (and) leave nothing alive With thoughts of Heaven come deeds of flesh: we'd look once more upon His Holy Visage, and our children whom we've known and wed (are) our means to recreate His Image In lurking Fear of His Displeasure after dark, between their cries, in the Eye of the Beholder: this is where Beauty dies

Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 23, 2025

"Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night, for the arrow that flieth by day, For the pestilence that walketh in darkness, for the destruction that wasteth at noonday. A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand: but it shall not come nigh thee. Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold, and see the reward of the wicked." One last perfect night of Life on Earth, I saw a pestilence descend on wings plague black, as it rode the ancient Star Wind: there are things more horrible than death

Submitted by Infernal Flame — Apr 23, 2025

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Beneath a shawl of midnight Silence, a howling Blackness where all is remade in necromorphosis, asleep in human remains Worn from the stones, elegiac word recounting hopes and forgotten lives, for beneath them lies the Dust of humans, the Dust of dreams, the Dust... A coach drawn by the blackest steeds, as befits those who've passed from Life, will bring you to where swarm the specters of Man's best-loved Funerals The Laws of Flesh are here repealed: Vigor Mortis is now the Way, so count the black beads of your Sorrow while you stammer your frightened prayers Readjust your vision, see the warp in the Shadows... there's Something wrong with the Dark: Something that thrives on Wretchedness and Sorrow and makes the darkness crawl Rain-swelled clouds blot out the sun, damned nor'easter chilling the Dark Branches, sticks, thistles, thorns, feathers, fur, mud and bones... Dying ground A Lifeless Thing of earthen heath, seeing soil from beneath, knows the Need to Summon flesh to its maw Cold blue lips frame (a) yard-wide grin that Calls to flesh, to let it in, and thus indulge its Yearning come the unDawn Roam the endless Cemetary of what once was, (where) the Allfeeling is never truly Gone

Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Apr 23, 2025