Szron / Kriegsmaschine

No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.

No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.

No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.

No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.

No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.

Let these words be as sand in the cogwheels of reason, as a malign disturbance in the sustainment of universe, and let each quark of this degenerated microcosm stand as a citadel of cold and deliberate hatred. Let there come a glorious error in the patterns of the world. Let the tainted foundations of reality crumble and let us hope nothing comes afterwards, so the gravest of mistakes we all blindly wander in will finally come to an end. Annihilate prime factor. Thrice deny divine restraint. Reject all things finite and infinite. Annihilate prime factor. Towards the tainted omega-pleroma, so perfect in its warped beauty, it comes to burn the earth and our hearts shall welcome the flames with purest of joys. Haunted by the voices of living breathing cosmos, Isis! Cunt of pneuma, whence all floweth, exceeding the capacity of pure abstraction, digitized Logos, blistered into matter.

Submitted by Infernal Flame — Apr 26, 2025

Boiling, malignant hatred safely hidden behind an illusion of dumb, satiated face of a common mail. Once planted, hungering, burning its host from inside, waiting to be unleashed. Constantly fed with the world... and beyond... easily crossing the borders of the capacity of human mind. Coming. Straight through all the senses, a deep, long insight. Coming to humiliate, trample and eradicate what we thought will was. Mindrape. Soulfuck. Coming. Eradication. Coming. Coming. A baptism in stinking semen of the Father, from a putrid fruit of the Mother's womb. Enlightenment. Coming.

Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Apr 26, 2025

Covered in infant blood and angelic faeces, stalking through the crumbling ruins of Basileia, a putrid, odious disturbance in perfect balance of the primal void. A blind, sickening malediction with only one urge: to relentlessly grow its warm, bubbling pulp of life. What insolence does it take to consciously reject the Fall as the natural condition of Man? A monument of abhorrent revelations. The brightest fire of the Devil burns dimly as it lives and moves in those who know the Self as one... What a pityful spectacle, to witness the Finite cling to the supposed importance of their lives. And yet what a delight to Bestiae, the sparks of Infinity burning within the Disciples. Warm organic mud, degenerated descendants of Adam, enslaved by futile self-preseving instincts, faithfully bowing down to the crumbling illusion of hope... What disgusting, wormlike, humane pride does it take to reject a logical conclusion, acknowledging the faint hope of Christ while the Fall has already come in all its glory...

Submitted by Cyberwaste — Apr 26, 2025