I'll watch as Neptune devours the sun
A void, a beckoning to the absence of light
The grasses of existance, cut by greed
And in their wake lies an empty sky
This is the stump of god's right hand
Our trophy, our victory, our vengeance
There is no wind as cold
As that which sweeps through the plains
Every tree cut from this gray sea
For wood of the cross
And from your blood shall sprout the seedlings of a new age
Every temple burned, every menace slain
These symbols of your oppression- one with your remains
But stonework never decays
As our poor houses of wood
Creator of ruin in the clouds
Barren skies looming over us
As watch towers over this prison
Thieves in robes gathered in masses
to take the minds of the blind
Kindling dampened with holy water
until nothing remains dry
And the fire will extinguish long before
the cold air recedes
Blackened hardcore with the sheer heady power of stadium crust and the glacial melodies of second-wave black metal. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 10, 2023