Denial | Will | Becoming
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 17, 2026
Upon the grand manifest of Cosmic Death, I behold the Dark Light of Thine, Illuminating blaze of thousand spears, Piercing through every illsuion. Gloria In Excelsis! Serpentine posion - bitter taste of sacrifice, Dripping from the Divine entity of Thou, Like neverending torrent of splendour, The gateway to Everything and Nothing. Luceat Lux Vestra! Gloria In Deo, Vivat Rebellatio! Gloria Morti, Mors Vinicit Omnia! Drowning inner essence in ecstasy, And undefiled Black Fire, I proclaim ultimate devotion and reverence, And engulf in delightfull Madness. Lux Ex Tenebris! Mortal Skin starts to shed away, While the sight gazes beyond... Through the countless mazes of Yours I have come to know the Self.
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 17, 2026
Gospelic chants of fleshly defiance, Vibrating through the unearthly winds. Sinister choir spreading, From the mouth of the Deathcult... Spoken wide are the words of His! They call upon archaic terror, And vast demise of inferior blood... Raging endlessly towards the face of the Earth! Raze and conquer - plague upon plagues, As the despair ravages the ashes and dust, Ravages the soil of the cursed whores and worms Soil of the funeral procession... Triumph over man, fest of inhumanity... The blessed reign of Adversaial Flame! Procreating the mass graves that will stand tall, As a monument Sacred Oposition. Malevolent symphony of pure uncreation Shall rape the world with infinite decay... Clouds of Darkness roll over the sky, As the Beginning of the End is marked. Blind souls... And all of you who walk the path of the false! With the shape of despair and innermost fear, Witness the formation of your Arch-nemesis! The Sword of Damnation, The vessel of Negation. The final hour of the New Dawn draws near... When the torches of victory (loss) burn high above, When they see the most horrible truth of them all, Everything will perish in the streams of glorious Perdition!
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 17, 2026
Praised be, oh Holy Death, Reaper of the infinite aeons, Destroyer of matter, deliverer of freedom. Messiah of the other side, so true, so real... Yet so eternal and gracious. Reap now, justiciar force, For I have withnessed seeds of your work, As every sprout bears the triumph. Ride on the pestilent winds of bliss, And leave the trail of hallowed silence. Slash open this deceiving creation, For its sands of time has come to an end. Break the chains made of flesh To grasp in magnificence of joy and delight, To dwell in Union of Darkness and Light. Reap now, swing with your scythe! Catharsis bringer, soul purifier! You are the emperor of emperors, For no mourn-crowned king is so noble, Nor mere human too worthy. Oh merciless scythe-bearer, Bestow the uttermost gift of all, The entrance to perpetual Nothing! Guardian of the world beyond, From whom shall you be a blessing, from whom a cruse?
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 17, 2026
Cloaked under the wings of Old, Forever isolated from their ways, Clinging to this life - so sterile, Existence crowned in absolute vain. Yet still absorbing the flourishing Wisdom, With a gleaming grace of Iron Will, The Key, true as the Death itself. Can you not see the signs...? Malign disorder is yet to be revealed! Posses me, most Dire Ones! Striving with an open heart To embrace the gifts of Thee, And with wide open craving mouth Every drop of venom is swallowed! That is spat in the face of ignorance. Aversion towards this desperate place, Creation is declined through uncreation. Slowly drowning the human within, Source and burden of earthy suffering. The thorn that stabbed too deep, The fragment that waits to be shattered. With no remorse... The ever-searching spirit shall rebel, Deflying the curse of nature's arrogance! The ever-searching spirit shall rebel, Deflying the curse of nature's arrogance! Posses me, most Dire Ones! Striving with an open heart To embrace the gifts of Thee, And with disgust and raging anger Every drop of venom we spit Upon their world of ignorance. And still they echo in mind and soul. Silently whispering the mysterious call. Inside the walls of this putrid shell, They gather and burn... And still they echo in this scorched temple Cries of hatred, weeps of despair... The restrained screams of Everlasting Fire, The thousand voices of (the) Devil's Call.
Submitted by Celtic Frost — Jun 17, 2026