The Suns of Perdition – Chapter I: War, Horrid War
On the day divinity rejects the order They'll bend the mirrors back unto the gift of fire That reflects in the master's eye They'll break the grand design, to bring forth the healer Feast or Famine The wage of sin is Death Hold them like a teething child And show them the sins of their fathers Waste them, and their waste to the world And collapse, as madmen lead the blind "Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how do your gardens grow?" A failed womb, of their ART Early ripe, early rotten And the world is rotten; like a fallen fruit Ring the war chime Violently project it inside The fanged chasm; A hellscape colossus That bleeds them like fucking swine On the day divinity rejects the order They'll bend the mirror back where at last They'll drag the whore through the sceptered isle They'll break the grand design, to bring forth the healer On the day that never ends At Jornada del Muerto At this tilting plateau of diminishing grace Salvation is sought where the sun yields No sanctuary
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 04, 2026
"NOT ONE STEP BACK" Severity commands, dehumanize the enemy In a hell on earth, which no living thing could survive Clutched in a sequence of mass graves Life - and the lack of it - became clearer each day I watched as the bodies hung from the frozen trees that cloaked the Volga And beneath an oblivion sky the frantic cried to the streets that bore them I watched as the fires scorched the million hands that bound a nation; Where life - and the lack of it - became clearer each day I watched as the bodies hung from the frozen trees that cloaked the Volga And beneath an oblivion sky sung the threnody to finis germaniae I watched the fires scorch humanity of its humanity And like a gravestone over Stalingrad The god of war had gone to the other side In spasm to power Not one step back In spasm to power Not one step back "...And there is no room on the other side."
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 04, 2026
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O decapitator! (It is) not ye who slew them When thou threwest a handful of dust O decapitator! Victorious with terror In knife-edge genuflection "Smite ye their necks." Behold the disgusting power of the optimists heart Where he held his fevered dreams To the relevant drops of original blood Know God, no peace; when the time calls forth the speakers; (In a) Sеlf-righteous, self-pitied, sеlf-hatred The servant and the compeller The iconoclast and the architect "They are from them, they are of them" Are these the kind of swine we're meant to live for? In this terminally demented pit of rats Not worthy of the lowly trough that feeds them Rotting in the last ditch of Eden
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 04, 2026
Carry your cross, to the muddied step of Golgotha Through the widening gyre; in the absence of everything Carry your cross, to the muddied step of Golgotha For a cause not known to the gods of our fathers The earth did tremble, the skies did cry It was our turn to play God As we carried our cross To Flanders, where the pipers played the song of Caber Fidh To Flanders, in joyful march To Flanders, here we were the men of no man's land To Flandеrs, where war was changed forеver To Somme, to Ypres, to Passchendaele For a thousand days we wore the mark of Cain We band our sorrow again On the bloody fields of Flanders We were the men of no man's land Then came the gas; a harbinger of misfortune Where all life did die, and by God the stench was infernal Yet we carried our cross, to the muddied step of Golgotha Where the earth did tremble, and the skies did cry Yet we carried our cross through the muddied step of Golgotha And like the birth of a pregnant insect We went over the top To Flanders, through the gaping shell-holes filled with decaying flesh To Flanders, thrust in the barbed-wire To Flanders, "the worms crawled in, the worms crawled out." To Flanders, where these days will live in infamy I prayed for that cliff to come But it never came (And) On the eleventh hour Of the eleventh day Of the eleventh month The guns fell silent "In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below We are the dead, short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields." -Lt. Col. John McCrae
Submitted by Nargaroth — Jun 04, 2026