off the sinister heavens I strip the arc of moon
|
the cosmic sickle starts the deicidial harvest
|
I am the wheel of fortune that grinds your chest
|
the fruit of the storm and the kingdom belongs to me
|
the time has come, your time, my father
|
|
this is my fate
|
to raise my hand
|
against the silver temples
|
that is my fate
|
to set up new order
|
the castle of clouds shakes
|
this is my fate
|
to get the sword
|
and paint the mountains red
|
|
the crescent of moon ploughs his breast
|
cry, cry all spirits, the old one is dead
|
|
drops of his blood whirling around
|
changing their colours, altering shapes
|
his purple juices transform into angels
|
hosts of lust, Dionysiac tribe
|
|
regicide sword, bull-horned god
|
brother of all spirits,
|
lead your troops, lead us to Earth,
|
feed us with flesh
|
feed me with flesh
|
teach me substance
|
|
lightnings, thunders...
|
|
he is not dead
|
he regains his strength
|
spears of royal curse
|
bullets of royal wrath
|
lightnings, thunders chase us
|
... but we'll be back
|
... some day
|
|
-----------------
|
The Birth Of The Race
|
| Lux Occulta |
