Beneath the Grieving City
Ravages of the Nocturnal Sun Granter of life, please taketh mine, I hath fallen out of time. The sun I sought hath fled the sky! Is it all truly gone? Lumps of charred flesh amidst ash and debris Nourish the smoke spiraling o'er me So sad my remains as they continue to be. Yes, all is surely gone I lay in this, my sacrosanctuary, its roof open to the sky. My body's burnt and the air is so chilled -- My skin painfully dry. I still yearn for the crippling flames which deformed my body to ash, But the fires are far gone -- as is my flesh. I lie drooling and abashed.... on the floor. A wish to gaze up through the sky But my eyes -- as ravaged as my face, Thus in this setting dew I die Despised and gagging in my fuming waste. A wish to gaze up through the sky.... Thus in this setting dew I die. Why hast thou left me, nocturnal sun? Why hast thou destroyed me? I burned as you set... Burned as you set. I cannot move nor e'en breath. Why hast thou set? Nocturnal sun of Set. Flailing my flaming limbs I was felled to the ground, The clouds I thought ethereal were the smoke in which I drown (x2) (Chorus) Therein lies another sun just beneath the spectral moon, Twas there I gazed till I was blind and in its flames consumed. I bled, I smothered lives Now I call to thee with rasping cries I'm damned to bear an urnful of woes And without thou, age and die. I knew I would burn. I must pay. Alas and alack! Hope is dead and flesh shriveled so black. Alack and alas! My limbs break apart, frail as glass. [repeat chorus] Therein... another sun. Set hath come and gone. Gone.... Granter of naught and ended lives whisk me away from whence I lie I hath no skin but shan't repine, I shall exist until I'm gone. I am all but dead, I can feel each day flee and the days into years and the years out of me. Noons sun blisters my vast wounds -- a mockery of the god who now is gone.
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 18, 2026
Of Dying Things I talk to the dead in dreams and awake They answer me not either way. I long to be bled, to be one with these dead Who seem only to grow deader each day. For though the dead may rot And the dying scream, With life didst they not Dwelleth in sheer agony? They died in their dreams And dreamed of dying things. I spill their urns in the storms chilly gust Writhing in my ancestors' dust. The dead feel no disgust As the rain brings out their musk.
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 18, 2026
The Grieving City Tartarus Of late the bards sing Only of utter demise And the peasant men are fondling Gangrenous brotherly thighs They were born of incest, Were not you and I? Within these walls of Tartarus where e'en Gods are lain to die. I fled my filthy place of birth Where mine ancestors still lie. I fled their miasmic tomb as I came of age Lest with them I'd putrify. I emerged from that flesh-strewn crypt savaged by a disease That shall surely take my life Into the dying Tartarian realms Peopled by beings e'en more diseased than I. So oft I dream myself there, at strange gallows Built o'er a Lovecraftian hole The coarse endless rope attached Not to my neck but my soul. An omen, yet still a dream From whence I'm raped awake by a scream. Jackals with grume-matted fur Stumble through streets where wretches writhe in feces. Almost, I pity each villager Left torn by those beasts in forlorn scattered pieces. Dead As far as my eye it sees Mauled bodies lie, diseased As far as my eye it sees. Exactly the same wounds, The same bizarre doom. And doomed I be beneath my disease. Oh, I'm rankling in pain. Disentombed. A mausoleum's child displeased, His tears as rain on those slain. ... And the centuries pass like black burning wax.... (repeat chorus) The hundredth day of my thousandth year alive At the gallows of my dreams where I must hang, but shall I ever die? Led there in chains and beaten with a thorned whip as well. The gallowman is dead. Alas, I must hang myself.
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 18, 2026
I in Cerecloth Inarmed in the firmament's beguiling sad feebleness, Ornate were the cerements on me wrapped with eagerness. Tears. A fashion -- want of passion -- for their drears. Come and gather, weep and blather insincere. Didst ye knoweth me? Didst ye knoweth me? I'd rather I'd hath merely died Than be beholden to this horrid lie of I in cerecloth, they in sable. Of I in cerecloth.
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 18, 2026
... And the starless skies fortold demise.... I am not the only one. I'm just the last alive. I remember not who they were. It's better that they've died. Limbless bodies violently jerked bathed in the twilight Funeral at dawn, burial at night. (Chorus) There shall come a time when the night shall pass and the earth shall remain black Where there shall our stone idols come to life with our eyes, whilst casketless we decay. My bare hands clench and toss the soil performing their unfit burials. Battered faces vanish into the dirt. Grotesque limestone figures stand Sentinent o'er our burials. Mankind, I await my beheading, my death -- alert. With lacerations to my neck I'm banished beneath the ground If I only could see as each earthen thing dies, to hear their screams, the sounds. Witchery bizarre Pains my fatal wounds. Does this moistened earth around me Welcome me too soon? ... And the starless skies fortold demise.... [repeat chorus] [Part II. The Wake of the Golems] The light is piercing, forcing open rock hewn eyes unto the splendor of heaps misshapen by the whirlwinds of flies. They destroyed our beautiful reptilian bodies but shan't avoid Thy corrosive hands, my goddess. (x2) Rot amongst your lowly sons in heaps that scrape the sky! Their tattered mounds surrounding as we watch them fossilize. All is still at morning. Morning comes to dusk. Nothing left to life but for the parasites on each husk. and casketless we decay.
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 18, 2026
"And the Children of Ur who had frolicked within the cemeteries Were sought out by their Eldars. Once found they were beaten and hung in front of all who chose to watch. Their corpses became a mockery to the hundreds who passed by. For seven days and seven nights they dangled before being cut down and fed to the livestock. As cadavers, they dream only lies..." Nothing in death Ending the life My soul bleeds through my skin Skin so deep I've met one like me So many graves ago There's no point to life, death or sin Sin so deep Fictitious, the lingering of life in a corpse Now all is dead and forgot Emptied of all that would once make you be Nothing's eternal but rot Nothing to grasp In taking a life The child will bleed when I cut Wounds so deep
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 18, 2026