Sometimes when I visit the landscapes of the shadows
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Something that recalls the grave
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Hides in the hellish depths and awaits
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When I dream, it peeks into empty goblet
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(and) becomes the wine of ecstasy and licentiousness
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I know the one in a flock said: "Watch out, watch out"
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But I will not go away till I taste the sweetness of your body
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No matter it poisons and causes death
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The past is like an eternal funeral
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Years, thousands of them, I rotted in a monastic cell
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I resembled a stone, hiding my murderous self in silence and fear
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I lasted in the infinity of meditations and contamplations
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Waiting for the deserved dream, there on the holy land
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And its taste and coldness I remember
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Bare-foot digging my own pit
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I was kissing it as if the sweetest lover and begged
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But was the sand to become my salvation
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Or worms the people on the court of light
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The past reeks of an oak coffin, so wet and old
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Burning dirty claws in the wooden eyes of Jehovah
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I killed mercy, spotting on the laws of god
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I celebrated the birth of power
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I fall in love with freedom and the beast
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And I spat out the Antichrist from my morbid womb
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In order to give life to alvine grain
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And concentrate the birth of human tragedy & destruction
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I envisaged myself as a great magician
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Although they called armageddon the whore
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Today I celebrate my birth, though I am elder than the world
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The past only sometimes is like the sind
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That we grave-digger throws in your eyes.
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The Past Is Like A Funeral
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| Behemoth |
