The Fountain of All Sorrows and Wrath
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00:35
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1. |
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2. |
Thorns for my Damnation
06:09
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As the knell dies away
and petrichor scents the moonlit moors
I find myself engulfed
by faceless fiends with pointy tails
The depths roar at their behest
poetry written on the day of my death
chanting a spell of scorn
calling me to pray in my church of thorns
Come… Kiss the thorns! Kiss the thorns!
In this land I descent
of shadows and unhallowed crypts
to the fount where sorrows spring
amidst a frenzied maypole of fiends
Rats die in the talons of owls
screeching hoots and hellish yowls
there can be no redemption
bring me the thorns for my damnation
Satanas Venire! Diabolus Venire!
Cypresses bow by the fury of the abyss winds
as a Queen and a Bishop waltz…
A dance of havoc
in the shadow of the ripper’s scythe
a mournful foreboding of doom
ordained in death… In death…
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3. |
Night of the Desecration
11:14
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November’s mist is a mournful garment
dressing the old walls of cold stone
The leaves of the trees have withered and fallen
down to the cold ground of the churchyard
Dim candlelight, feels warm but trembling
pierces the darkness and reveals
an orgy of shadows, nightmarish figures
dancing upon the walls…
Night of desecration…
A celebration of gruesome darkness
within a ring of blood and wine
Dancing and skewing to a crippling rapture
offering nails and thorns to the cross
The elder female passes the chalice
all shall drink the blood of Christ
A paroxysm of screams from his statue
behold the crucified…
Night of desecration…
And the Devil has heard the prayers
we can sense Him from the court
From the rainfall, from the mist,
sounds the shriek of a sad violin.
We join him out, into the cold
and our hearts are burning with an eerie flame.
Away from god, we’ll heed His word
and dance with Him, a baneful dance
He will teach the arts
He will speak of wordless truths
He will sense our morbid sorrows and ease our pain
with haunting tunes from his violin
Night of desecration…
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4. |
My Angel
01:08
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5. |
The Church of Thorns
08:29
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I fall from Grace… Fear… Pain…
Black fire eats the sky, a thousand angels die.
I can see a Church, such a dark nameless place
Marching on my own among graves of stone
Death and decay, ruins, morbid sorrow
Visions of the damned
the Church calls to follow.
Statues look forlorn, doves crucified
Nothing in their eyes, emptiness of life that dies
Monuments of an end macabre
carved in stone I see
silent as that faceless man hanging from a tree
I’m fallen from Grace… Fear… Hate…
A thousand angels died, grim October’s night
Tears of woe, they drenched the cold earth
as I withered crucified in shame
Through the haunting fog echoes a raven’s crow
Waters turn to blood
there roses scream when they are drowned
Lost in a court of dying hope
where pain is King and fear is Pope
I fail to cope, my mind is torn, I kiss the thorns
I fornicate with daemons, they raped my soul
My soul…
Don’t pray for me, can’t be redeemed
mute as foreseen, an outcast in sadness
Don’t bleed for me, silent I’ll be
I’ll be waiting for thee
the monarch of silence I’ll be
I’ll sail in oceans of sorrow
until the black abyss takes my soul
like Thee, Angel whose name, Satanas!
Is but the last redemption from my doom.
And as I fall, a vision makes me shudder
in ecstatic fear… a flower
a rose whose beauty I so long adored
For as the vision clears
and I see clearly among the clouds
its beauty is grim…
the flower rests on a cold tombstone.
I cannot touch the flower when death begirds it.
Vacancy…
My Church of Thorns… My Church of Thorns…
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6. |
A Wanderer's Journey...
01:57
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7. |
Hammer of the Angels
07:59
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Oh marvelous star, oh crest of doom
oh death and light abreast
whose ruthless hammer crushed the world
and crowned thy chosen blessed
Who, in thy tears of anger
shrouds with clouds the dome above
and rainfall drowns the wretched lands
wherein our spirits rove
Who tears the quaking earth apart
when angered shine thine eyes
and then command the wrathful seas
to shatter down the skies
Who calls upon the beasts to roar
their young with blood to wean
when time draws near to sacrifice
the Bishop of the Queen
Thou, hidden sun that glares at night
seizing my final breath
A novel splendid cast
of integrated light and death
Who ’d tie the hangman’s noose
or break the shackles of the slave
libations made with chrism and blood
upon the poet’s grave
Who calls to us with tunes of flute
when flowers bloom in Spring
anointing us in silence
when bitter wine we drink
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8. |
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9. |
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Wampyrinacht Athens, Greece
Wampyrinacht is a Sinister Okkult Metal horde from Athens, established in 1995 and ever since dedicated to the old school sound and underground spirit of the ‘90s, and the darkness within and beyond the human psyche.
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