Dead to Dust Descend
Freezing inside, a reality cold. Feeling lost in an unmerciful world. Drowned despair, without shelter. Nailed to your fate, is all you are. Ignorant stupidity, malignant hypocrisy. A scornful path without recovery. Perished to nothingness. Dead to dust descend. I hate your presence, I hate your cries. I hate you all, you weak pathetic ones. I abhor your ways, I abhor your lives. Led like sheep, a herd under the book of lies. Born to die in a world full of lies. A pathetic road to meaningless strives. A path led to chaos, a trial to the end. All beauty shall wither, creation drowned in blood. As I walk the darkest of halls and laugh into infinity. Once more nailed to the cross, forever rotten and sour. Led like sheep as grain to reap. Perished to nothingness. Dead to dust descend. Like sheep a herd under the book of lies. I feel no sorrow, I feel no pain. But I do feel hatred; and cleanse the earth from your plague.
Submitted by Immortal — Apr 26, 2025
Distortion of the darkest black. The reverence of this cursed time - holding it back. Drifting from the last, echo of light. Free from the insight and embracing the soul’s inner night. Shape of despair. This utter path to nowhere. Only the beginning to the greater end. From death and beyond, from birth to forevermore. Gasping for hope. Meaningful to none. What ever path is chosen, with every trail of pain. Distant in memories, then long forgotten in anyway. A charade at most, grief and greed beyond the words. As it all ends so complete, buried in the earth. Never connected, as one perhaps should wish; to this reality still so cold. Slightly out of focus and misplaced. To rot in decay, after the final day - as one in ashes lay. Strength against strength, oppressing one’s will. A lonely path in a world of guilt. To reach out, wondering where to belong. In a world of disharmony, where everything feels wrong. Far from what, one would dream of. Close to the, ever famous edge. Trembling and out of balance. Not knowing, not feeling safe. What ever path is chosen, with every trail of pain. Distant in memories, then long forgotten in anyway. A charade at most, grief and greed beyond the words. As it all ends so complete, buried in the earth. Regardless of legacy, close to it - or still so far.
Submitted by Immortal — Apr 26, 2025
Ett själsligt mörker, där det inre förgås. En djup smärta, med blödande sår. Där glädje saknas och hopp ebbat ut. Resans början går mot sitt slut. Fast ödet ville annat, när allt gick fel. Men ändå rätt, en chans att bli hel. Där i ett rum med min inre vrå. En insikt vaknar och frid mig når. Av skymning kommen, mot gryning går.
Submitted by johnmansley — Apr 26, 2025
A dream of immortality, through years eternal. A chase after interventions, a limbo led to disaster. Pure reduction by, a dying breed bound through; centuries, lifetimes of an needless creed. A longing for divine seduction, has led so many astray. I wish after an ending, of this diabolical masquerade. An unrealistic dream, caused by ancient written words. I wish after an ending of this diabolical masquerade. Chaos and bloody deeds, because of religions. Terror, war and death; in the name of God. A difference in religious beliefs, creating actings. An unrealistic dream, caused by ancient written words. A longing for divine seduction, has led so many astray. I wish after an ending, of this diabolical masquerade. An unrealistic dream, caused by ancient written words. I wish after an ending of this diabolical masquerade. A longing for divine seduction, has led so many astray. I wish after an ending, of this diabolical masquerade. An unrealistic dream, caused by ancient written words. I wish after an ending of this diabolical masquerade. Words….
Submitted by The Void — Apr 26, 2025
En varelse i natten, en själ utan ro. Med bottenlös hunger och törst efter blod. En ständig jakt på offer, när timman slagit sen. Ett evigt liv i mörker, när solen har gått ner. Ett liv i skuggor, av månljus belyst. I sagor nämnd, omtalad som myt. Ingivandes fruktan, benämnd med hat. Släckandes sin hunger, fram tills natt blir dag. För många idioter, en bild av fascination. Men för alla offer, ett möte med ödets dom. Så denna fruktan, omgärdas med viss mystik. Dock slutar de flesta, som ruttnande lik. De som känns värdiga, kan få dela detta liv. Dragna till mörkret, mystiken med evinnerlig tid. Få är de valda, som inte möts med förakt. Få är de värdiga, att besitta denna makt.
Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 26, 2025
This track is instrumental.
This track is instrumental.