III - Hear Me, O’ Death (Sing Thou Wretched Choirs)
This track is instrumental.
The heaving earth awaits. From the deathless heavens purge the pitiful dead. Their salvation lies deep in the bowels of the earth. A depthless chasm to which we are borne; ascension from grave to dust. A stench of humanity's putrescence will one day devour the earth, to it's bowels we again return…
Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 26, 2025
Incandescent eulogies litter the earth. Sing their dead revelries. The earth's wretched bowels have expulsed their offal upon herself. Landscapes of death for as far as the eye can see, a cemetery of repulsive purgation.
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Apr 26, 2025
They hang, wretched and cold. Their bodies displayed as a testament to the gods of death. Decaying for the eternal splendor of their repent. Crowned above all, death is thy name.
Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 26, 2025
Memories of flesh are forgotten; the stench of mortality lingers on the palate. The dust of faithless coffins chokes the air and your salvation rots with your flesh, immemorial to the existence you once knew.
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Apr 26, 2025
From his blood we will come to know perfection; death. In his body we have become whole, with his blood we are empty. A chalice of holy blood poured to our lips, devour his flesh to become holy. Our heaven will be in his grave, heralded by the equality of death. Let the blood make you whole; let the flesh be your rapture.
Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 26, 2025
Hear their cries. One thousand tortured hymns from a choir of dead throats. Sallow faces hang as their salvation rots… disembodied voices wretch the gospels of the dead. Pale voices haunt the air as cold death envelops your flesh, let them wretch their hymns and lead you into that heaven.
Submitted by NecroGod — Apr 26, 2025
Beyond the embodiment of the pleasure you know as death. Unto forsaken hallways of stone and beneath rotting inscriptions your reliquaries are abandoned. Human flesh for the inferno of sanctity befalls it's doom. The mould of centuries ensnares your dreams, sepulchered with all death, with all holiness, with God… Dead forever, beyond forever.
Submitted by Corpse Grinder — Apr 26, 2025