Changes / Love Songs
Dualist that he was, believed in both: A God above created all, but doesn't care, A God below, the materia. Believe in both. Therefore denial of Jesus Christ, No son of God, mortal invention. Baphomet! I show you the crucifix and tell you Not to believe. Spit, deny Jesus Christ for It's not true. Baphomet, the one we hail. Jaques de Molay, last master of Templars, On little flame his body reeks. Flame agonized as underdone flesh died And he prayed to Baphomet: "I shall overcome this mindless society! My executioners, they won't see another year!" Some months passed, mysterious Circumstances, king and pope, Both were found in their blood. Coincidence or Baphomet?
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026
Hear me chant these ancient rhymes, Remember unholy times: Cathars hunted by royality and church. Uncover the heretics secret knowledge! In the year 1244 on the hill of Montsegur To deny they refused. 205 were burned, Tortured to death. We never forget Churches intolerance, ecstasy of ignorance. Depriving people of their free will, Throughout centuries inquisition killed. Withstand and spit on church. Return to the ancient knowledge! Call it blasphemy, Call it heresy. To be free, That's it for me. Ecclesiastical reign strikes minds, Own mentality gets no acceptance. Crush the priests and spit on church. Return to the ancient knowledge!
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026
Purulent wounds, evoked by vicious life, Eternal stain that's for what they strive. Pain, grief and war, components of their God, To honor this unholy trinity in endless tombs they fought, Cleared the world of every thinking thing. Now they got out. Melt imagining existence! Unutterable abominating entities gush from below. Stenching wave of eternal darkness, now ready to show That everything in their way with it will flow. Flow now with the wave and become a part, Unreflecting, just accepting the unholy art To embody in the wave every being's heart.
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026
Feel the pain creeps through my veins, Close my eyes and see this face. What's this feeling, which cannot be named? Try to escape this deadly race. Realize I know it, face abhorrent feelings, Endeavor to name it, call it schizophrenia. Voices give me orders, I just obey, Went to a psychiatrist, he called it schizophrenia. Wardens with straightjackets, before I distinguish, Force my hands on my back: "He's got schizophrenia.", Put me in a cell. I don't know what that helps. Scholars pass me by:"Another case of schizophrenia.". Sit in my cell, but I'm not alone, They speak to me, try to persuade Me that I shall get out of this hole, But there's just one way to evade: Kill myself and meet with them. This promise seems to me like heaven. "Come and follow us!"
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026
Fifth angel blows the trombone, Glowing star stigmatizes the earth, Turns it into an extreme pile, A realm of chaos, devastation and pain. Fire devours human's inner gates, Thresholds in our subconsciousness, Inventions just to keep away Bad, ugly and suicidal intentions. Amusement of the Gods, As we drown in our blood. There's no need for godly intervene, To cause apocalypse for every human being. When innersoles do out of body pool, They just watch for the hill. Bloodbath all over the world, For cruelty our souls we sold. Suffocation in blood that's what we need. The work from Gods will be to from the seed. Apocalypse now done And we die alone. Alone!
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026
Hear deep growling down below! Bloodred tombs are their home, Greedy for human flesh, Dark lord Satan they confess. Demons, ghouls are their names, Prepared for lord Satan's reign, Armageddon, final battle will arrive, Legions of darkness shall arise. Take my soul, I will join! Take my soul, I shall reign! Take my soul, I won't hide! Take my soul! "Your soul is mine!" Willingless creatures, now side by side, In nomine Satanas they'll take your life. Sheep are not prepared for the outbreak Of faceless aversions, which hack in the neck. Millions go headless on their knees. They don't fall, 'cause Satan holds the keys To keep them erected, hidden from their maker, So millions of headless bodies cry the prayer:
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026
I'm standing at the turning lathe, The work is nearly done. A short look at the watch, A small glint of hope. But the machine is using the moment, Picking up the thread, Grasping at my shirt, Threatening to devour me! Torture and carnage and soon I'll be dead, Morbid knocking in my head. Torture and carnage, when will it stop? Morbid knocking makes me a clot. The workpiece is ending through my head, Two thousand times in one minute. My eyes swell and burst. The result is enormous deformation. Gears become the register Of the seconds of my fading life. The machine is splashing my warm blood And painting macabre designs on the wall. Fragments of bones are smelling up the air And liquid flesh is dripping from the table constantly. Morbid knocking! Morbid knocking! Morbid knocking! Morbid - knocking! The machine is raging like mad, Playing with the last spark of my energy. I'm still standing at the turning lathe, But the work is done now. The tool of horror gets slower and slower And as it's standing still, My hacked body is sinking to the floor And I'm bathing in myself, And I'm bathing in myself!
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026
Nuclear mushrooms grace the land, The earth is now in Satan's hand. If you sow the seed of life, The result will be a punished wife. The chromosomes of hate will grow, The beautiness of life will go. The curse will catch the dead body, Her hands will be very bloody. The mother 'll cry through her throat, As she catches sight of the clot. Children with five hands and feet- This is devil's perverse seed! [Repeat 1st verse]
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026
Cindy was a girl, never able to reach the island of ultimate orgasm. Just one penis, no matter how big and hard, to fuck her was not enough. Slowly her body started to take control over her mind and life- was it just simple lust or a curious yearning? To get fucked the most brutal way became her only pleasure... And still she could not get enough meat... And finally one day her vagina forced her to make "the" final decision... Her last one! To evoke some psychopaths was her aim, to fuck her again and again. Her impured cunt and mind became one and made her enter a dimension of total perversion and everlasting screams: " Take my body, it's all yours, teach me how to pass the closed doors, which separate lust from sexual pain." And this was the first step to make her life go down the drain. Abominations with cocks as big and hot as glowing swords, just released from the fire of eternity stuffed her every hole. Cindy felt like her body was just one wide open spread vagina... But still she could not get enough to fulfil her desire. So the creatures started to penetrate her flesh and soon little Cindy was fucked to a bloody mess. Suddenly a strange voice appeared out of nowhere "Let me fuck into her heart and she will be with us forever..." And finally as they penetrated her heart, she passed the frontier between lust and pain... Good and bad was nevermore, God was just a hazy memory. Her body slowly faded away, no time left to pray. With her body forever gone, her soul is condemned to burn in the fire of solitude and everlasting yearning for all times... Now, as I'm standing here at Cindy's grave and the rain of a million centuries is falling down on earth to wash away all the sins, I know: "Death is God and God is the spirit of all sadness and pain. Little girl, I hope one day we will meet again. You know, what I mean, at another place, in another time... Maybe then you will be mine." Try to reach the island in this bloodred sea, try to reach this island, then you will be free!
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
I'm standing at the turning lathe, The work is nearly done. A short look at the watch, A small glint of hope. But the machine is using the moment, Picking up the thread, Grasping at my shirt, Threatening to devour me! Torture and carnage and soon I'll be dead, Morbid knocking in my head. Torture and carnage, when will it stop? Morbid knocking makes me a clot. The workpiece is ending through my head, Two thousand times in one minute. My eyes swell and burst. The result is enormous deformation. Gears become the register Of the seconds of my fading life. The machine is splashing my warm blood And painting macabre designs on the wall. Fragments of bones are smelling up the air And liquid flesh is dripping from the table constantly. Morbid knocking! Morbid knocking! Morbid knocking! Morbid - knocking! The machine is raging like mad, Playing with the last spark of my energy. I'm still standing at the turning lathe, But the work is done now. The tool of horror gets slower and slower And as it's standing still, My hacked body is sinking to the floor And I'm bathing in myself, And I'm bathing in myself!
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 18, 2026