Pacifism Is Cowardice
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
I will reject somatic bonds Cast off this wreath which is a hangman’s hood I will not be seized against my will Dragged weak through the hourglass’s sands I command the death elect Choose when to spill my own blood Accomplished purpose supreme And die by my own hands The annihilating victory Be the lord of supremacy Rise sacrificial ecstasis Quelling desires idle This hour hand is one of steel Blessed, inexorable The elective death attained And falling well like a setting sun shall I pass
Submitted by NecroLord — Jul 05, 2026
Great doubter of crawling rights Believing more in the whole of naught Neutron judge and persecutor To thee, a higher living entity Veiled by the flames of its own light Blackening out the sun, Quantum god of total destruction Everything, nothing, denied Return to the nothing Ajativada! Pure being and bliss All life is over Ajativada! Return to the nothing Ajativada! Pure being and pure bliss, All life is over Ajativada! Great mass dagger of the cosmic dark Slicing through the veil of all veils Triumph of the new world trinity Allowing life to pure become, Ajativada!
Submitted by NecroLord — Jul 05, 2026
Cast to Poseidon the weak of limb and heart The night the father who confers the ensign and command To rove the fields for frail men who ought not shirk the light Give to Poseidon the weak of mind and spirit Born not to endure, but to embrace the glory of supreme pain Martial ascesis of the laws of Lycurgus and the hungry blade Krypteia, of an iron age Lykoi, disdain the lame Against the numb and narcotized, paralysed by sedation In their sanctuary of rams, a semblance of emancipation We attack! We who found our kingdom come in latent barbarity Ascending to the peak, wolves of the krypteia, we! In rapture of the hunt of those housed in false security Whose bread and wine is what we kill, wolves of the krypteia, we!
Submitted by NecroLord — Jul 05, 2026
Do not choose to head your cause He that hides his face from war Burying his nose in fucking cowardice Who wants an easy life and nothing more Do not choose to change a world And bare fertile kingdoms A crippled cunt who has no fist With which to wield a sword Walk the way of honest violence Of speed, enervation, chaos Or run alone even mightier And burn mankind to fucking waste For man is something to ascend Those born and do not grow still crawl I choose the path of running fast Of violence gold and death to all The cannon calls creation's song While the weak will attract weak Like sightless rats with tails coiled Of which the shit within their claws will speak
Submitted by NecroLord — Jul 05, 2026
No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.
Massacre whole the millennial twilight Centaur beasts of an incarnate mythology Squadrons snorting at the grey gates of darkness Unbolted, unchained, grim and deranged Blood rise! Blood rise! Blood rise! Blood rise! Sentries wielding burning torches Laid like garlands at their courtesans' feet At the foundations of flammable palaces Where the gutless wait for their guillotines Blood rise! Blood rise! Blood rise! Blood rise! The nectar of the hunt, the sweet perfume, the brackish scent of blood Filling the nostrils and open jaws of martial splendour Domesticating death, eviscerating rest, and masticating fate Totalitarian, potent, absolute and great No thirst of sleep or hunger for rest Plates filled full with the entrails of peace Raise the mountains aloft, show them Zeus's soles And bury the whole fucking world in beautiful blood Taking all the breath of the weak For greater tyrant lungs Except in strife there is no life To ride the lance of revolt And utter the noble truth of the day: War is the only hygiene of the world!
Submitted by NecroLord — Jul 05, 2026
Seven thousand years ago, marched I across cold steppes To vanquish the ancient sons, old ones, of the occident Hoof prints carving a maze of blood-soaked emblems Etched well in eternity like inscriptions on tombs And perhaps devour their entire ancestry Death is for mortal man, and I can never die Man in form alone, man in form alone Death is for mortal man, and I can never die Man in form alone, man in form alone Death is for mortal man, and I can never die Man in form alone, man of sun not fucking bone Seven thousand years ago I chased the setting sun To find where it goes when the horizon takes it home And perhaps become the wolf that hunts the flaming disc And perhaps become one with that which never dies Bringing the old voices of the land to stillness Seizing their stone temples as trophic severed heads Made before my birth, in prescience of my presence Monoliths made to seat the coming of a king
Submitted by NecroLord — Jul 05, 2026
All middle ways denied Rationalism over feeling defied All false love and false unity Crowned like a shit in the gutter Maim the infant voice of shit That censors the word of steel Mutilate what’s too weak to endure The solitary golden thorn You are the new fourth kingdom Who dictates thoughts and words
Submitted by NecroLord — Jul 05, 2026
Strip the land and skies of its ruined wings You who ride the silver clouds You who unmouthed made your vows Reapers of flaccid empires With your scythes raised to the sun Gathering your harvest of spires All your crops of blood for the one Reveling in the sound of your enemies' tears The music that flows like endless rivers And that never stops through cycles of years The eternal dance upon the prostrate living corpse that shivers Iron sons of Khan! Iron sons of Khan! Whose trophy was the quivering heart In the cold breasts of a million men To tremble under the thunder of your might For aeons and aeons to come, and then...
Submitted by NecroLord — Jul 05, 2026
Origin of my origin, first of my beginning Golden-faced thou stand with two keys, and the rod of punishment Spirit of my spirit, in my possession The burning mane, and the hammer roar Aion! I will be born again O Aion! To a virgin womb Zervan! That I may gaze upon Zervan! The unfathomable waters of the dawn Aion! Unchain me from my bonds O Aion! I sacrifice my soul to my soul Suicide and sanctity, and shrouded consecrations Into this cup which man has named “I”, but not I Whose draught takes on the colour of the vessel Taking on the shade of the lightning bolt I, born mortal, to be buried a god
Submitted by NecroLord — Jul 05, 2026
Submits, comments, corrections are welcomed at webmaster@darklyrics.com SPEARHEAD LYRICS
Submitted by Finntroll — Apr 18, 2026