The Pest Called Humanity

Some unwelcoming spell depresses the place. A look into the mirror, I see the devil incarnate. Some misanthrophist in my direction In my deserted interior is a world Of misty windswept moorlands. Full of thoughts, rising against the dark I am the only one, who non omnis moritar I am the evil one, who non omnis moritar Non omnis moritar, Death has many faces. Non omnis moritar I am each face of it. Only this great dark throne is mine!

Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Apr 26, 2025

A spiritual cold spell fills the air, from the depth of my soul, I can breathe the smell of decay. Walking on the ground of mighty Saldor, during the hours of darnkness. Silent drops of tulwool are balming the steps, these are the steps which bring me into the abyss. This onielar I bring down to this earth. Rising against the dark Bring every zadula to the brink of run. Bring every zadula to the brink of run! This Onielar I bring down to this earth!

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 26, 2025

No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.

Listen to the white winds of death! The cries broke the silence of the cimonar. Gliding between the centuries of time And I riped their wings of life. Their decay period started, and I know they are destructible! The void in the center of their hope Despair I am. I could never set an end to the war of attrition, until I wiped out all these minor creatures. I will never rest until they sunk Into the dark mud of our tulwod. I will never rest until they heard My unearthly sounds of hate. So unhappy in their deaths, which have been so sudden. So unhappy in their deaths, Sudden, Violent and misterious! DIE!!!

Submitted by Warbringer — Apr 26, 2025

For Centuries of immutable frost, these woods have been oh so dark. Darker than the blackest of storms, which drapes the dell in formless shadows. A thousand tears maiming cold, saturating an elder evil, A malice that has been here, For centuries of immutable frost! Lands of lore - Lands so unpure Even the suns shafts of gold, shining with glorious fortitude, begin to shiver as they forgather with black storms of might. Roaming these lands underneath skies, their ghastly shades weeping in silence, a silence that has been saddened by centuries of mine! Of all the trees which welcome me, one stands utmost grim. For this dying spirit grieves, Harkening, at perlious times gone by... Forlorne... Oh thus it stands utmost grim!

Submitted by Lake of Tears — Apr 26, 2025