er all there was no potential
After all there was nothing but empty words
Spoken with no real meaning behind

It´s too ironic that all the energy
Was drained to them
But where do you think it originally came?

Reach nothing from the "releasing voice"
Reach nothing from defying it
For many have said we must "admit to life"
But they usually had just a vague impulse
And no real experience of the opposite

Some understood this
But usually instead of true despisal of life
They projected only their own worst human potential
And claimed it to be the world

Something really bled through
But if it is flowed in a grail
And drunk for its glory
The effect is not the hoped one

2. Anorexia Nervosa

The journey has reached it´s final stage
The flame of life blown out in the wind
Like a lamp put under a bowl
Where it alone knows it´s fire

Choked emotion
Ritual secrecy
Where harnessed to put it out

Still you flicker
Like a filthy moth
On a filthy looking glass
Reflecting the light of moon

Through your eyes
I shine unto the world
Seek and overwhelm everything in you
Like was done to me
In ages past remembrance

I baptise with my own blood
But the one who comes after me
Baptizes with...

3. Assimilation

In this fucking sewer of broken dreams
idols come as they go
What hypocrisy practised
in the name of humanity

All their gods and satans I harness
as snow-white stallions of the chariot
of my devotedness
and my anger for that matter

Stained are my robes
with the blood of the needy
Yet I was the one who reacted
and got myself here

Promised myself to Satan
Heard the mockery
of the impending fate and
took it with me

How frail hope may be
it still is far more existing
as a feeling, a presence
than your petty love

4. The Bloody Fist Of Soul's Death

every day you seem to know
exactly what to do
is it blood that runs through your veins
and not just life turning rancid?

the bloody fist of soul’s death
stands for our master’s love in us
and against all decent philosophy

it doesn’t ask
if you know what you do
it doesn’t ask
what your intentions are
it doesn’t ask
if you were serious even in the beginning
it doesn’t ask
your commitment to anything at all

some honest men already pierced
their hearts with the cold spear of inevitability
for they knew what they did
why should you be any different?

and so the world revolved
around the neutral centre
which was justly hidden
from all eyes but one

5. Demonosophy

well have you done,
paid submit to one demon
just to lose sight of another

just like after mating
the black widow female
consumes the head of a male

it has consumed you
to the verge of avitchi
solar pralaya awaits
and so do we

invert it – abacinate
black spheres devouring earth
to reach the quintessence in hate
all must be thrown to the hearth

the eyes that tore world’s apart
have turned to look the other way
and lost all colour
to some darker matter

6. Intercourse

The origin needed to diverge to recognize itself
The first and the last rightful demand

Many are we who don´t remember our source
And many more are them
Whose blindness concentrates their numb suffering
To form another constantly more lost beings

Enough something to interfere in matter
(and everything that appears only through it)
But not enough to have the prime factor
Withstanding deeply conscious through the process
Even to few becoming transformations in the subject
Between the indestructible and everchanging
Not even to mention the words "ad infinitum"

But listen to me now at once
When that which is pure in hate
Speaks through me:
"We are not responsible to anyone but our true selves
We can have it another way
As it was, is and will be nothing but our impulse
Reverse the intercourse!"

7. Imprisoned (& Hypothermic)

I am the silent speaker
and a witness to all decadence
unconsciously of me but with my power
man rose and fell

cold crystal walls,
icy surfaces of glass.
seal me from outer meanings
from loathsome sentimentality

sought was the watcher
but not seen
slain was reality
instead of it’s great slayer

no funeral for the great sacrifice
no meaning, no remembrance
from my icy tomb
I pass into the moonlight region

8. Vision Surrounds The Snakepit

for forty days
I’ve been struck
by visions, constant nightmares
and random decadence

who does feed us these visions?
who counts the heads in a grave?
like a serpent of royal blood
calls us from the dark?

for three nights and days
I have followed the path between the graves

searching for the presence
slithering on the edge of my mind

turning my efforts to fruitless cinders
veiling all reality from all eyes

slain be the slayer
on the cross he has built
what a splendid vision
to accompany the fall