Damno Lumina Nocte
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by Cyberwaste — Jun 22, 2026
They have caused anguish, the vise of judgment that destroys brains. A fetish that cleaves to heads, strike blows that kill day ater day. They throw stones ... hungry souls like tight-lipped slaves, stack stones in their consciences, men who believe in those words, for a promise of light, a sordid light ... are the shadows of a world that is coming to an end. Those listless faces, dulled from centuries of lies, of submission! His throat burns and he lowers his eyes ... your images of power. They throw rocks, the cracked teeth, the deaf ears, they do not listen to their shattering mouths. His throat burns the throat and he lowers his eyes... your images of power. Slayed jewels fall and are covered with blood.
Submitted by Cyberwaste — Jun 22, 2026
Diverted, I move around the circle. Through dark visions, I push myself downwards into the hole. There are also temples of blood within the circle, opaque, ghostly, crazy inverted structures! Visions, I look on as they contaminate me, leading me downwards, I slip into the hole of infinite depth. With blindfolded eyes, I can now see, …..I am in the circle, a strong whirlwind, full of meanings made of dark flames, strong in image, in breath, causing my descent. Now I will build my temple of blood! Take the screaming voices out of my body; red are the words that tarnish the strong walls of that ancient malaise.
Submitted by Cyberwaste — Jun 22, 2026
He rises from a thousand voices. The air is trampled, twisted, torn. From a thousand voices he brings death, he screams and rots in the silence…… The centuries of bitter wounds, the land gives way swallowing the victims, those rotten lands of emaciated faces. The executioner brings in the river of broken bodies. Nature is steeped in infamy, her lifeless kingdom. In the oblivion of their eyes he rises up, in silence he shows them the way, in the lacerating wind, the executioner brings in the river on broken bodies. He kills the human horde, he places pain on cracked lips, their words can no longer be heard.
Submitted by Cyberwaste — Jun 22, 2026
The everlasting fire that blends with the earth. The symbol that generates a damned dawn, brings absolution to those who rot. A conflict of forces creates mud, the death of men, a quick solution. The lives driven by a torturing wind, made of silent giants. Soiled, they erect the symbol. The dawn that creates the crying of days, brings the stele of pain. Eyes cut by glass tears ... raise their heads to the sky to avoid drowning. The symbol is reborn, made of burning withered flesh.
Submitted by Cyberwaste — Jun 22, 2026
I sew the shroud for a journey in the waste cities of my heart eyes I dare not to meet in dreams will guide my paralysed forces through the stranger’s ear through my elementary town. the scream still sticks in my throat my mouth is pressed against the wall my chest is choking for ashes entering my eyes the time is now for behaving as just the wind behaves enlightened by a meat-eating sun with the last drop of the deepest blood once for all I will blow the cry for help away even tomorrow’s dust shall flare into my breath.
Submitted by Cyberwaste — Jun 22, 2026
light breaks on secret lands: when logics die the secret of the earth begin to grow through the eye and the blood jumps in the sun dawn breaks behind the eyes from poles of skull slides like a sea and the oil of tears spout from the pits of sky. light can only break where no sun shines where no sea runs where the waters of the heart are bound things of light broken ghosts from a pitch moon night file the flesh where no flesh can deck the bones.
Submitted by Cyberwaste — Jun 22, 2026