1. |
Doctrines like Flowers
03:19
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They bloom, consume,
as they penetrate, their roots eroding you.
Versatile, how they breach and they defile.
Their seed injected, it begun,
to overgrow with holy ones.
Doctrines like flowers, gods like man,
they foul and wither as you break the stems.
In gloom, they bloom,
ye shall cut their stems before they turn on you.
Fair yet vile, through their veins runs blackened bile.
in this my garden of distress, I am,
an ivy tendril up your chest.
In this my vineyard of contempt, I crop,
my love as grapes of lament.
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2. |
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I need to feel as i need to fear:
Heaving of the chest, weight that's wrought upon my back.
The horrors divine, as they entwine
in bodies, as souls,
as chasting laws, begetting gods.
The dreaded quietus,
we shun and further push away.
This seal that conceals death,
bears many names, but a common fate.
We are heirs to a world of cruelty,
as we are sown on fruitless soil.
But all hearts will be,
then freed of zeal,
when gods are devoided of man
and man is devoided of self.
An emptied world resounds,
all voices fading out.
Numbing limb by limb,
slowly life ceases.
A sickness within,
the fate of flesh a common end.
Still resounds in our hearts as feeble pain,
to take this toll and their hoarded souls in vain.
This crack in the seal that conceals death,
when gods are devoided of man,
and man is devoided of self.
All hearts will be,
then freed of zeal,
when gods are devoided of man,
and man is devoided of self.
An emptied world resounds,
all voices fading out.
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3. |
The Lust for Flesh
03:28
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Being led by strings that stretch from the dark within.
The lust for flesh, a sickness that I spread,
the twist of the knife in the back of piety.
Your power fantasies, symptom of the disease.
Surrogating god, you're a slave indeed.
The terrified perceive themselves as wolves.
They're but dogs in heat yowling to get fucked.
Ye muted dogs, subjugated flock.
God likes to watch and bait,
chasting lust through hate.
The horror of flesh in a world of contempt for the weak,
is the knife in your back, aseity.
Being led by strings that stretch from the dark within,
as they pull and you loath and disgust yourself.
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4. |
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My love is like a caskets embrace,
laying ambitions to waste.
In itself unrequited it yearns,
with cuts and cigarette burns.
Could you love a forlorn whore,
tonight on teeming streets?
Would you keep a worthless whore,
but shame and dirt to your creed?
My lust like vicarious famine,
and like a blade to your throat.
Like a cut and a stab to the heart.
This death of my will,
shall sooth and still,
all hopes and dreams.
And this incarnated fate,
will you still love while I hate,
myself through you?
I lust for thee and pain,
for me it's all the same.
Belial lord of lack,
a tightening noose around the neck.
As we choke on desires we crave,
salvation only through the grave.
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5. |
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They preach a stalemate dream of relieve,
of virtue unrequired, out of reach.
Heavens gate, sealed shut,
where angels fornicating in the dark.
Nine choirs of rapist sons,
inbreeding his kingdom undone.
Sanctity is like a cunt,
a substitute for the holy ones.
Stiffening, piteous,
their seed shall father none.
They greed, and negotiate with their faith,
victim to a life that they degrade.
A coming storm from the fifth of the winds,
the end is nigh as rot from within.
They grow unfit for the needs of the sheep,
the age of narcissistic grace.
Gods are conceived, through hate fuck in conceit,
then born untimely and defaced,
disabled, and transient.
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6. |
A Miracle Undoes Itself
03:24
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To dream beyond the limits,
is to find yourself asleep.
We peer behind the mask of God,
and find only longing and fear.
His cure is control,
allay, blindfold.
Born unclean, jairous descendent,
to cease the bleeding, you must repent.
"Get up and walk",
"Spittle and dirt",
"Freely ye received",
the miracle undoes itself.
Fathom and relics,
scales of the divine.
Meaning and seekings,
conform in design.
Canonization of flesh,
as human relent.
The miracle waives itself,
in the end.
To dream beyond the limits,
is to find yourself asleep.
We peer behind the facade of this world,
and find a looking glass.
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7. |
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I'm obsessed with vile and cruel digress,
on wayward paths indeed.
I hurt, fuck and grief, alternately.
Succumb to thyself like to the lowest needs.
Yet I'm cold,
even when I burn for you.
As flame of Gold,
I violate your soul.
Not a Temple but a fucking tomb,
slowly desecrating youth.
Not a refuge in an unjust vow,
from this constant mortal undertow.
I yield to Pain and truths undone
I numb myself for there is not,
a soul I keep, just a Void,
that I hide like a disease.
I yield to pain and mystery.
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8. |
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Many ways, spit of the dove.
In many ways, it comes as a goat,
and always in flocks.
Test us like gold,
designed, alienating yoke.
And perish for the lords.
I consent, when I repent,
to be born in this circumstance.
If god is the man of heaven,
and man is the god on earth,
then whom is he who pretendent,
compassion for sin,
twisting the lores?
They try to breach inside the heart of man,
they haven't hollowed until then.
They seek to subjugate the infancy,
feed them with fear as soon as they can.
To take a soul is how they call their control.
Don't grow but reap, to cling to their belief.
Behold, we are born unequal to each,
as we fraud the tests of community.
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9. |
Leviathan
04:02
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So writhe the dead under the sea,
so I believed an ocean in me.
Now gone the tides as currents turn ice,
I pray to thee, to hold me tight.
Das Grab ist nackt,
der Abgrund enthüllt,
vor Blöße entstellt.
So starrt er mich an,
Leviathan.
O death, this is thy sting,
O grave this is thy win.
O heart, that clings to life,
as trinity entwined till the end.
Still, writhe the dead under the sea,
as I believed an ocean in me.
Long gone the tides as currents turned ice,
I beg to thee, to spare me the sight.
Doch starrt er mich an,
Leviathan.
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10. |
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Some might say he, moves in mysterious ways.
Same will pray excuses for their unheard wails.
Like on fire I burn all color to black.
Like aflame consuming the emptiness left, that they call a soul.
I'm charred and scorged to none.
To dust and his breath undone.
Blessed be those able to trust.
Blessed with rejection, until they go numb.
We dream, our self and to ease,
this dogma of fear, fear of futility.
I lock my hurt away,
in a motion, in consent, in perspective on fate.
I lock my self away,
in a dream, in doubt, in regression and shame.
I call on thee, your sheath to be.
Grant me thorns to pierce the veil,
dive your sword in my heart again.
Make light this burned out life.
Through your touch I shall burn again,
torcher of flesh, your mastery of sin.
Waster of life, acceptor of pain,
render these flaws and their judgement in vain.
Helpless are those spurned in fear,
awaiting a hell that is already here.
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Ætherleib Austria
Mighty and marvellous is this Weakness, this
Heaven which draweth me into Her Womb,
this
Dome which hideth, which absorbeth, Me.
This is The Night wherein I am lost, the Love
through which I am no longer I.
Belá Külföldi - Drums
eintrostlosespferd - Vocals/Guitars
... more
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