Starting in April, we will be releasing an EP every month leading up to the release of our next full length Magus on Sacred Bones.

Here's a ZIP that includes mp3s and lyrics for Magus, Rhea Sylvia, Inconsolable, and The House Primordial. And as always, you can stream or download (mostly for free) our discography from our bandcamp repository.


If you need any of our records, swing by Sisters in Christ or put in an order. For shirts, hit up our pals at Shirtkiller. We recently collected The Sacrifice, To the Chaos Wizard Youth, and Baton Rouge... EPs on a double LP called "Ceremonies of Repetition." We've also collected Rhea Sylvia, Inconsolable, and The House Primordial on a CD called "Ceremonies of Consolidation." Burning World did a small press LP of our live collaboration with The Body from Roadburn 2018. Next on our list is the Heathen repress FINALLY! Just waiting on jackets and inserts to arrive. 


Holler at us if you want to be added to our email list to receive this news and other information directly.


The Fool Who Thought He Was King (Let Our Names Be Forgotten)

In the murk of mindless certitude all relevance is diffused. Join us in fetal security, sweet succulent pacification. We are engorged in self empowerment. Bloated magnificence sustained by unalterable judgments, mapping out the limitations of social interaction, of artistic abstraction. In the murk of mindless certitude all relevance is diffused. Join us in fetal security, that strengthening pacification. Lift high these banners proclaiming empty dissent. We useless heralds of transgression, of neutered transgression, of pacified transformation. Join us in fetal security, huddled together in bovine placidity. Unoffending restraint affecting no one, changing nothing. 


Death to the King and All His Loyal Subjects (Let Our Names Be Forgotten)

Ascending through the hive of the ancients, crafting candles of ethereal dissent, we are the heirs and masters to the grey throne of melancholia. We are so very worthless, and everything we do is meaningless. Towering, gilded, white pedestals erected in supplication to these raise'ed demigods, detached and preening with conceit. We are so very worthless, and everything we do is meaningless. Everything we've ever done--everything we'll ever do--is meaningless. Attend our needs. Servants, lie in debasement, sustained on the crumbs of pseudo intellect, dime store wisdom disguised as politico philosophy. The illusion of ideology. The imposition of precious ego. No room for opposition. One view rules all. One view ruins all. What was once a strength is now an affectation, a glamour cast over unsuspecting acolytes. But straddling mystery and candor leaves the bloody lips exposed. Reticence abandoned. Mythos dismantled. Blustering malcontents, so pedestrian, so very mundane. Childish bores talking and talking and talking in circles. Oh, you treacherous swine. Self entitled scum hiding in the fog of poverty, the veil of the oppressed. Self righteous ire. Self absorbed privilege. Self aggrandizing dribble. Tribulations contrived amidst vacillating abstraction reeking of guilt and greed. Fecund ambivalence from ostentatious parasites. Deluded vanity inextricably entwined. Instability, insecurity. Flagellants revealed. We are so very worthless, and everything we do is meaningless. Go now to the scourge pits to atone.


Don't Let It Bring You Down (Many Waters compilation) - originally by Neil Young

Old man lying by the side of the road with the lorries rolling by. Blue moon's sinking from the weight of the load, and the buildings scrape the sky. Cold wind nipping and the valley of dawn, and the morning paper flies. Dead man lying by the side of the road with the daylight in his eyes. Don´t let it bring you down, it´s only castles burning. Find someone who's turning, and you will come around. Blind man running through the light of the night with an insight in his hands. Come on down to the river of sight, and you can really understand. Red lights flashing through the window of your room. Can you hear the sirens moan? White kid lying in the gutter in the lane, and you're walking home alone. Don´t let it bring you down, it´s only castles burning. Find someone who's turning, and you will come around.


Now I'm Nothing (with The Body from You, Whom I Have Always Hated) - originally by Nine Inch Nails

I smashed myself to pieces. I am gonna fuck myself up. I am sifting through the ashes of what I have become. I gave myself away, now I'm nothing. I let you slip away, now I'm nothing. All that I can do is break myself in two. I fucked it all away, now I'm nothing. Wave, wave, wave, wave goodbye.


He Returns to the Place of His Iniquity (with The Body from You, Whom I Have Always Hated)

( ... )


Lurking Fear (with The Body from You, Whom I Have Always Hated)

Stooped beneath the weight of age. Thralls to antiquity. Tempered by furies. Catechism of violence. Supremacy restored. Transcend the ruins. The guilt permeates all. Laws of the father observed by the son. Henchman to the endless reconstruction. The guilt permeates all. For I am him, and he is me, unto the end of time.


The Devils of Trust Steal the Souls of the Free (with The Body from You, Whom I Have Always Hated)

Harbor the fundamental secret locked within the vault of longing. Yearning, ever yearning, for the emblems of desire. Solemn is the mood subdued in its own pathos. Retreat inside the eye. Those nebulous bonds, chords forged through all the years, have grown insubstantial. Ethereal symphony lost. Solemn is the mood subdued in its own pathos. Retreat inside the eye. Reach out and find nothing.


Beyond the Realms of Dream, That Fleeting Shade Under the Corpus of Vanity (with The Body from You, Whom I Have Always Hated)

To flee this aethyr, dead and accursed, realm of constant torture. Tearing away this veil of ignorance, surpass the boundaries of the flame. Tenuous ego, that feeble brace, endless well of disappointment. Life, and the lustre that consumes it, is the extinguished flame burning secretly as in the furnace from these dark eyes alone. By solemn vision,

bright silver dream, infancy nurtured, constructs the form. Every sight, every sound, creates the impulse, distorts the dream. That solemn vision dried upon our thirsting lips. And we are hung, shapeless bone decayed within the withered skin.


Her Strongholds Unvanquishable (with The Body from You, Whom I Have Always Hated)

Maelström of passions in that hidden sea summons the vortex to annul all those hexes, those incantations. Creations undone. Involuntary, unrequested conclusions cast to subsume the self. Immersed in darkness. Creations undone. Simulacrum raised to the heights. Glamours beset in its construction. Feckless deceptions, enchantments crumble. All dissolves in the void of perception. Glamours beset in its construction. Decrepit illusions. All dissolves in the void of perception. Immersed in darkness. Creations undone.


Terrible Lie (with The Body from You, Whom I Have Always Hated) - originally by Nine Inch Nails

Why are you doing this to me? Am I not living up to what I'm supposed to be. Why am I seething with this animosity? I think you owe me a great, big apology. I really don't know what you mean. Feels like salvation comes only in our dreams. I feel my hatred grow all the more extreme. Can this world really be as sad as it seems? Don't take it away from me, I need someone to hold on to. Don't take it away from me, I need you to hold on to. There's nothing left for me to hide. I lost my ignorance, security, and pride. I'm all alone in this world, you must despise. I need your promises, your promises and lies. You made me throw it all away, my morals left to decay. How many have you betrayed? You've taken everything. My head is filled with disease. My skin is begging you please. I'm on my hands and knees. I want so much to believe.


Spin the Black Circle (Only You Deserve Conceit) - originally by Pearl Jam

See this needle. See my hand drop, drop, dropping it down, oh, so gently. Well here it comes. I touch the plane. Turn me up. Won't turn you away. Spin, spin. Spin the black circle. Pull it out a paper sleeve. Oh, my joy! Only you deserve conceit. I'm so big, a-my whole world. I'd rather you, rather you than her. Spin, spin. Spin the black circle. You're so warm. Oh, the ritual when I lay down your crooked arm. Spin, spin. Spin the black circle.


The Mystery of Contradictions (I Hate Thou b/w Eyehatethou)

Our mistake was in seeking resolution. Our mistake was in the acknowledgement of any argument. In the confusion and chaos of his thoughts, he is terrified by silence. And by silence can he be brought to obey. In his speech there is the illusion of some grand quest, the lie that because he is himself, therefore he is no self; the blindness of night, the deafness of the adder, the tastelessness of stale and filthy water, the udders of the Cat of slime; not one thing, but many things. Of course this is merely thinly-veiled vanity. We are not confronted with the righteous esoteric, nor a dispute of true and faithful relation. This is not the death of ego but ego incarnate, ego in it's blandest, most obnoxious form: the banal thug, the maladjusted man-child, the semi-educated neanderthal. Not one thing, but many things. Woe, woe, woe, threefold to him that is led away by talk. It is time now to be silent. Your most humble and obedient servant...


A Prayer to God (To the Furnace Where I'll Break You) - originally by Shellac

To the one true god above, here is my prayer. Not the first you've heard, but the first I ever wrote. (Not the first but the others were a long time ago.) There are two people here, and I want you to kill them. Her, she can go quietly by disease or a blow to the base of her neck wear her necklaces close, where her garments come together, where I used to lay my face. That's where you ought to kill her, in that particular place. Him, just fucking kill him. I don't care if it hurts. Yes, I do. I want it to. Fucking kill him, but first make him cry like a women (no particular women). Make hold out, hope that someone or other might. Then fucking kill him, fucking kill him kill him already, kill him. Fucking kill him, fucking kill him, kill him already, kill him. Fucking kill him, fucking kill him, kill him already, kill him. Just fucking kill him! Fucking kill him, fucking kill him already, kill him. Ah Fucking kill him, fucking kill him, kill him already, kill him. Kill him already, kill him already. Kill him, fucking kill him. Just fucking kill him, fuckin kill him, kill him already, kill him. Fuckin kill him, kill him, fucking kill him already, kill him. Kill him, fucking kill him, kill him, just fucking kill him. Kill them already, kill them already, kill him. Amen.


Take Off Your Skin and Dance in Your Bones | Clarity | Dawn (Heathen)

T'ain't no sin to take off your skin and dance around in your bones.


Manifest Alchemy (with The Body from Released from Love)

Wandering steps, obedient to high thoughts. Awful ruins of the days of old. Progeny enslaved to all its authors' flaws. Are we but warped extensions? We have the power to begin again, untarnished world at hand. Recognize the open horizon, a consciousness that reaches all. We have opened the secret passage into the dream that never ends, a new reality of our own creation, an empire without end. Released from guilt, released from pain, released from love, released from trust: We are anointed in the sacred power; we are enshrined in ourselves.


In Meetings Hearts Beat Closer (with The Body from Released from Love)

Born from a dream to create a reality, we are absolved of effete morality. And through deliberate transgression is hallowed essence revealed. The destruction of purity, the destruction of worthlessness, though mighty and glorious and terrible, is but the pennon upon the sacred lance of the Will. It is written in the Book of the Law that this deep, mysterious secret is a sacrament of the Will, and to profane it is the greatest offense. The shocking evils which we all deplore are principally due to the perversions produced by suppressions. Ennobling presence exposes my weakness. And we expire in boundless bliss. All and None in One.


The Wheel Weaves as the Wheel Wills (with The Body from Released from Love)

Life has meaning. Pain has meaning. Through stripes and shame; through tears and blood; through doubts and fears, and all that makes the difference: I see an end.


Coward (with The Body from Released from Love) - originally by Vic Chesnutt

The courage of the coward is greater than all others. A scaredy cat'll scratch you if you back him in a corner. But I am a coward. Courage born of despair and impotence. Submissive dogs can lash out in fear and be very, very dangerous. But I am a coward.

Ode to Physical Pain (Heathen)

Oh, constant, unending Pain, my surest, truest friend. Agony, blessed Agony, your ever-present ache identifies unyielding vitality. That sharply labored breath is respiration (fully) experienced. Those overwhelming burdens grant me immune to senseless distraction, grounding me in the present. Oh, merciless teacher. Spread your harshest wounds across the soil of my figure. Find root in my skin and nerves and veins. Killing fields to blanket and smother withering pleasure that waxes and wanes. Thine are the lidless eyes of night that stare upon my tears. Thine is the thickness of the dark that presses in my anguish. Rejoice in the miseries of life unkind. Here, and only here, are the senses stretched and contracted, hone them to their prime strength, to primal vigor. Seek comfort in endurance. Be consumed by struggle. Lasting wisdom only exists in the abandoned fields, in the dusty swamp, on the burnt out plains, on the desolate hillside.


New Orleans is a Hole (The Sacrifice)

Decadence is restrained and smothered by the strictest codes of conduct. And you'll writhe naked upon the sands as the sun flays every inch of skin which is then assaulted and hacked away by the scorching, barren wind of empty breath. You wail and pray and grovel on your knees for a drop of water, just a bit of substance. Instead, you must sustain yourself on the scraps of idleness, or gorge yourself on the incessant corruption and muck of indifference. Excessiveness is a virtue. Debasement is a virtue. This is the birthplace of Saint I-Don't-Care. The patron saint of extravagant waste and crippling depression. Enjoy the masquerade of dark, bitter smiles of those too senseless to notice the uncanny resemblance: uptight aristocrat, lackadaisical vagabond. Different uniforms for the same subservient fuck.


I Hate Myself and I Want to Die (The Sacrifice) - originally by Nirvana

Runny nose and runny yolk even if you have a cold still. You can cough on me again. I still haven't had my full fill. In the someday what's that sound? Broken heart and broken bones, thinking about some capsules of horse pills. One more quirky cliche'd phrase. You're the one I wanna refill. In the someday what's that sound?


Immorality Dictates (Heathen)

We scorn the domesticated scholars in their unblemished, halcyon temples, isolated and confined in prisons of theory and vague conjecture. Tempers violent. Passions vehement. Uncaged and unburdened, we now see clearly. Only amidst the sea of refuse shall we find enlightenment pure. To be righteous we must be consumed by the most profane. And so we shall descend into the very bowels of physical consumption. Desperately searching eyes are blinded by the wild joys of boundless pleasure, writhing in the excrement of unfettered appetite. We revel in ecstasy of gratification, the union of opposites, the union of sames. Mask kissing mask, image caressing image, in the sty of self-absorbed enchantment. We are unruly beasts driven by desire. And we delight in our filth. We glory in the visceral, wholly-felt, wholly-witnessed. We relish unfeeling, all-feeling detachment. And you know that I love you. Here and now, not forever. I can give you the present. I don't know about the future.


Eulogy (The Sacrifice)

Drink deep of your mortality. Accept the blueprint for non-achievement, the well-tread path of capitulation. Bury the suffering and ecstasies. When will the old gods be avenged? Extol a life of compromise. Resigned to quiet submission. When will the old gods be avenged? Welcome boredom and banal normality. Farewell to joy and laughter and trust. Welcome fear, suspicion, and hatred. There is the stench of the gathering of flies. You have the look of a strangled child. You have the look of a hollow shell. You have the look of a rotting corpse. Entombed under intolerable weight, in the delusions of wish fulfillment. Escape the standards of youth. Find sanctuary in a cringing half-life. It's called moving on. It's called growing up. It's called giving up. Lurking in the shadow of your past, lurking in the blackness of acquiescence, pathetic acceptance.


Pill (The Sacrifice)

Vacant eyes meet vacant eyes meet vacant eyes meet vacant eyes. Can there be more? There must be more. Reach inside. Deep inside. Fingers run over the lying tongue, down the throat, probing deeper and deeper and deeper. Grasp the writhing truth. Purged. Insubstantial blame. Purged. Inconsequential anger. Purposeless discourse. And now a promise of benevolent malice. A promise of impending violence to you, my friend. This is a promise to you, my friend.


At the Foot of Mount Driskill (Heathen)

We are but antlings, vain in our assumptions. We would presume to grasp at the unfathomable. We would presume to dress it as man, to give it names, to speak its intention. Yet we are humbled beneath the shadow of true greatness. Now the earth crest rises to meet our gaze. We are but fleas. We are but lice. We are nothing. Insignificant. Dust motes blown away by the breath of time. Vague memories of no consequence. Vanquished are the fires in the eyes of the friends I knew. Just as they are deafened to my wasted breath. Each one more wasted than the others you can bet. Now I see through the illusion of permanence. I am diminished in the presence of vastness. Useless are my tools of science, of religion. There is no understanding of limitless power. We are at peace in our minor, subordinate role. Accept our frail, short lives.


In Defiance of the Sages (Heathen)

We reject the esoteric falsehoods, the endless ponderings and useless theories of the mystic inane. Their heads nod, and from their mouths issue lies: an answer for every question, illuminating all the mysteries. Only action is real. The past is lost, the future unknowable. Only the present can be truly experienced, can be truly known. Deny the ecological soothsayers. Deny those self-styled radicals. Reformers! Conformers! Smash the lens of rotting history. Lay your torches on every museum, filled with dead monstrosities, the superstitious veneration. No more heritage. Destroy the past completely along with its abortive children: unauthentic present and rust-encrusted future. Now, we will create ruins. And after—something new and unimagined.  


Into the Marshlands (Heathen)

So falsely are we led into mired existence, entrapped and sinking in the truest bogs and quicksand of urbanity. But the city lies barren and riddled with disease. No more are we sustained by its lifeless concrete and structure and utility. Flee the dying fortress of civilization, besieged on all sides by wild nature. Hope and contentment will not be found in its manicured lawns and cultivated fields. We were weaned from the nourishment of Nature’s breast and abandoned to the cruel orphanage of modern society. We must return to the womb, to the heart of vitality, wherein lies the strength, the marrow, the pulsating blood. Watch as the Mother’s breath is exhaled, that sweetest incense, night thoughts of the Earth. Find your path amidst the winding contours, that secret passage in the wild.


No Excuses (Only You Deserve Conceit) - originally by Alice in Chains

It's alright. There comes a time. Got no patience to search for peace for mind. Laying low, want to take it slow. No more hiding or disguising truths I've sold. Everyday something hits me all so cold. You find me sitting by myself, no excuses then I know. It's ok. Had a bad day. Hands are bruised from breaking rocks all day. Drained and blue, I bleed for you. You think it's funny, well, you're drowning in it too. Everyday something hits me all so cold. You find me sitting by myself, no excuses then I know. Yeah, it's fine. I'll walk down the line. Leave our rain, a cold trade for warm sunshine. You my friend, I will defend. And if we change, well, I'll love you anyway. Everyday something hits me all so cold. You find me sitting by myself, no excuses then I know.


Feral Faun (Heathen)

Unbound, unrepressed, untamed, uncontrollable, unknown. No longer cowering beneath the roles hewn to our beings, we shall reclaim our vital energy, unique and unpredictable. Backs bent no more in the mad race of resource production and consumption. That web of domination, that web of mediation. Of limited experience and clearly defined boundaries. We rebuke this overgrown wasteland, teeming with the repulsiveness of pavement and cement. A concrete wilderness? No. An everlasting shrine to submission and death. A false wilderness prostrate and conforming to the will of man. Those vines and shrubs that would bend the knee, a caricature of freedom, an affront to life. We seek that which can only be found in the unmappable, the unknown, the unknowable. And from this venture we can never retreat. We have been recruited in blood. And the blood sings.

Free Will (Heathen)
Open your eyes and exalt--Exalt! in this fragile world, in this knowing flesh, in this very moment.  We have forsaken the delusions of Comprehension as we are born into the certainty of the Sensual. We are the stone that starts the avalanche. We are the cough that spreads the plague. We are the spark that lights the inferno. Relinquish those wretched controls of knowledge and experience, those conditions which hinder Desire's progress. Cut away esoteric corruption and seek unfettered fulfillment. In defiance of the sages. In defiance of the intelligentsia. Useless philosophy, theory, and poetry must be heaped upon the cairn. See them consumed in Action--sweet, reckless Action.  Join our sad tears and dance on the blackened bones of gods. Beyond the shadow of the citadel, there is no such thing as time, there is no such thing as negation.  There is only this tangible, perceptible world. There is only this moment, this very moment.
Millstone (Big City)
Chattering, nagging, Black Speech, incessant, irrelevant, irrational.  Pettiness always on your tongue.  Your fetid breath crawling down the back of my neck.  Your cold, dead hands clutching, crushing my soul.  My needs, my desires cats paw to your whims.  And when you've finally, painfully excised every last ounce of my patience, all the doors will be opened, and I will be resolved--I will be absolved--to leave the curse behind.
View of a Burning City (Big City)
Fiery spires raised to pierce the veil of hermetic, nourishing night.  Concrete standards to proclaim the tyranny of industry's might.  The heralds that announce the imminence of cancerous disease, unending plague.  Nauseous.  The bodies piled high.  Maggots rule and birth swarms of flies.  The black cloud descends.  And gold is all.  And we welcome thee with open arms, with blinded eyes.  Hail, our corporate overlords.  Hail, self destructive greed.  Hail, our burial grounds.
Fourth of July (July) - originally by Soundgarden
Shower in the dark day.  Clean sparks driving down.  Cool in the waterway where the baptized drowned.  Naked in the cold sun, breathing life like fire.  Thought I was the only one, but that was just a lie.  Cause I heard it in the wind, and I saw it in the sky, and I thought it was the end.  I thought it was the Fourth of July.  Pale in the flare light, the scared light cracks and disappears and leads the scorched ones here.  And everywhere, no one cares.  The fire is spreading.  No one wants to speak about it.  Down in the hole, Jesus tries to crack a smile.  Now I'm in control.  Now I'm in the fallout.  Once asleep, but now I stand.  And I still remember your sweet everything.  Light a Roman candle, and hold it in your hands.
How Lonely Sits the City (Big City)
Strangled in a vice grip.  Lash out.  This is the place where sadness breeds, the desolation in everyone.  This is a wasteland full of nameless, faceless, soulless mounds of flesh, mewling, writhing in and out of existence.  Long for communion.  Nothing.  The wailing moans, the gnashing of teeth.  The deafening, endless, complete isolation.  Long for an end, a day of reckoning.  Into my bones, let it descend.  The holy stones lay scattered at the head of every street.  Urban scars wiped clean.
Ordinary People (Resurrection Bay)
Gaze into the empty eyes of the rank and file, and you will know defeat.  Knees break, bent before the altar of indifference, of conformity.  Lips purse, to kiss upon the ring of submission, of abdication.  Servitude personified.  Mediocrity's champions.  Is this life?
Get Me Out (Big City) - originally by Cower
One more second fucking wasted, put this bullet in my brain.  One more second, one more minute, one more hour--I'm a wreck.  If one more second goes uncounted, put this rope around my neck.  Bury myself into the bottle.  Cough up glass for a week.  Searching for strength in a liquid that takes the death grip on me.
Cold World (The Archer and the Owle) - originally by Pygmy Lush
It's a cold world to walk alone in.  You need some side to start belonging.  There's always open arms in the war.  The out crowd is laughing at you.  A man with a badge appears, saying, "It's warm.  Come inside."  Kid, you got no real agendas.  All the good you've done been's forgotten.  There's always open arms in the war.
There There (The Archer and the Owle) - originally by Pygmy Lush
All as if you were alone.  Nobody left you, but you're always not better.  It's unmistakable.  I'm only here for understanding.  You better.  Hey, there there.  You're not the least of us.  Don't look at me like a defect.  I'm just unlearning.  Don't worry.  Hey, there there.  When in the sharpest hole, look for the rope that isn't burning: start climbing.
The Unnamed Path (To the Chaos Wizard Youth)
Into the dark night of the soul:  emotional balance restored; self-limiting beliefs forsaken; cultivate the Shadow Self; spirituality made visceral.  We have healed the religious wounds of a stifling upbringing.  We have absolved ourselves of shame and guilt.  We have communed with our true ancestors.  We have raised the Great Crossroads.  We now see the third face of God.  In defiance of binary gender, we are made whole and surrender to the unity of synchronicity.  And in life, outward reflection.  The power of resonance.  Like vibrates like.  Like amplifies like.  In true greatness.
Helen Hill Will Have Her Revenge on New Orleans (To the Chaos Wizard Youth)
It's coming for us through the trees.  This is a message from the River.  This is a sermon from Nature.  To see us weep and moan, to see us float or drown.  This is a blighted land, infected with the virus of human greed, corruption chokes every breath as we exalt the culture of excess.  Inhaled to the depths of our oaken roots.  Exhaled as billowing refinery pollution.  Indifference subsists in our bones.  This is our unspoken history, a bestial temperament obscured by social constraints.  And that brief moment when Nature's wrath released us from Modernity's restraints has offered us a glimpse of what boils beneath our skin.  But do not confuse causality and cataclysm.  This is systemic violence, and we are all guilty.  Some day a real rain will come and wash all the scum off the streets.  She'll come back as fire and burn all the liars, leave a blanket of ash on the ground.
Skinwalker (To the Chaos Wizard Youth)
And at once I realize that the hand I hold is black with corruption, that the gilded rhetoric is a sibilant mantra meant to stifle guilt, that the staunch discipline of tradition is merely the coward's path, and that this descent into compromise is the death of friendship.  I've witnessed you slit the throat of the young idealist and impale empathy to the hilt of your sword.  You wear a stranger's face.  Your eyes hold no recognition.  Conceal the vastness of self-betrayal beneath the scientist's cloak, beneath the scholar's mantle, beneath the hedon's frock.  Drink the blood of this perverse deception.  Escape in inebriation.  Bonds consecrated in our most private moments.  Loyalty sacrificed in the blaze of denial.  My emptiness has built your altar.  And I worshipped myself in you forever.
The Witch Cunt (To the Chaos Wizard Youth)
This woman is Athena.  This woman is Medusa.  No longer the vehicle of her male counterpart, she is armed and militant--yet in no way a reflection of the stolid directness, the frank simplicity, the violent impotence of the masculine savage.  Compulsion recast as understanding.  Constraint recast as protection.  This woman is Goldman.  This woman is Constantine.  Water poured over thick black lines.  Stay here.  Breathe here.  One shape is no shape.  A mist to obscure the lines you've drawn.  Stay here.  Breathe here.  Flow out.  Moist breath on hot tissue.  Flow out.  Breathe here.  Flow out.
Aneurysm - originally by Nirvana
Come on over and do the twist.  Overdo it and have a fit.  Love you so much it makes me sick.  Come on over and do the twist.  Beat me out of me.  Come on over and do the twist.  Overdo it and have a fit.  Love you so much it makes me sick.  Come on over and shoot the shit.  Beat me out of me. She keeps it pumping straight to my heart.
Summit Reprise (Summit)
Another World is Inevitable (Summit)
I'm ashamed of running away from nothing at all.  I just can't deal with these feelings any more.  But when I look around at the fiends who would needle away my resolve, who would recreate me in their image, I recognize their insignificance.  And so the winds of history disperse the fog of mysticism.  The weeds of technology, those vast mechanical growths, release their stranglehold on culture.  We call to the blackest sun to wither away.  And I seek an end.  If I could but see it.  And by the actions of my own hands, it is revealed.  This new epoch when mastery has turned to fellowship, when those with a hatred for life have seen an end to their own:  these intellectuals who replaces facts with their mythologies, these tiresome brutes who violently sustain might makes right pedagogy.  A new world springs from the corpse of the old.  Our most ephemeral desires and our most treasured dreams lay the foundation for a brilliant new reality.  Social interaction is no longer defined by dutiful sadism.  The death of the system, the system of death.  This will be the day.
Grissecon (Summit)
Behold! this ancient ritual, this divine act.  The one clear way to transcend the boundaries of the corporeal plane is to merge our flesh.  The co-mingling of our physical beings opens the doorways to the ethers, to vivid truth.  I consume you and, in turn, I am consumed by you.  Love is the law, love under will.  The purest connection, the strongest bond.  All of the struggles, the weaknesses and faults, slip away.  All of the masks, the anger and secrecy, slip away.  Essence unveiled.  The universe revealed.
The Butcher's Bill (A Faire Quarrell)
We're always crying that we want to be free. But when the shadow of danger looms, and when the mob scents fear: we collectively gasp; we shut our eyes; we abandon our convictions; we grovel and crawl before the Great Seal; we prostrate ourselves before the all-seeing eye of the God of Greed and Poverty and Ownership. Ideology abandoned. Culture abolished. Families destroyed. Psychoses intensified. Consumerist freedom! Limbs and organs decimated. Lives ruined. Spread our disease.
Bonnet Carré (The Archer and the Owle)
Heads shake at self inflicted misfortune.  Hands wrung of responsibility.  Ears covered from the ringing trumpets of fact.  Father created from the black froth swept off the rim of the cauldron of creation.  We are maggots, and we are worms writhing in the marshes of refuse.  Flee!  Flee!  Sink to hands and knees.  Crawl through the muck, shrunken genitalia beating against bellies and thighs.  Wretched, disgusting beasts.  That tree which no man knows has been hewn to it's roots and set ablaze.  Our faces are bleached in its ashes.
Milk It (In Utero tribute compilation) - originally by Nirvana
I am my own parasite.  I don't need a host to live.  We feed off of each other.  We can share our endorphins.  Doll steak.  Test meat.  Look on the bright side, suicide.  Lost eye sight.  I'm on your side.  Angel left wing, right wing, broken wing.  Lack of iron and / or sleeping.  I have my own pet virus.  I get to pet and name her.  Her milk is my shit.  My shit is her milk.  Test meat.  Doll steak.  Look on the bright side, suicide.  Lost eye sight.  I'm on your side.  Angel left wing, right wing, broken wing.  Lack of iron and / or sleeping.  Protector of the kennel.  Ectoplasma, exoskeletal.  Obituary, birthday.  Your scent is still here in my place of recovery.
Voices in the Wilderness (The Archer and the Owle)
The death throes of daylight set the sky ablaze.  Silent pyres are heaped with the bodies of the meek.  A twilight inferno:  prelude to utter blackness, the Erlking's only boon.  In the shadow which offers no relief we explore the caverns of thought and pluck stars from the sky, striving.  But armour wrought from rhetoric and axes blunt by willful ignorance offer no protection--only shackles and an early demise.  Excise guilt.  Abolish doubt.  Is there no escape from Ahimsa's snare?  Natures face be stained red by claw and tooth.  But even rusty tools--misshapen and vile--have their uses.  There can be no life for the weak.
Prometheus (Summit)
The exhortations of traditionalism ring hollow: the echoing footsteps of cross-bearing martyrs, the rejection of free will, the inability to meet the challenge of critical thought and individualism.  Heads bowed and eyes closed to the joys of today.  Three things only do slaves require: work, food, and their religion.  Those callous-kneed ringer-kissers.  The eyes of providence are blinded to the suffering that surrounds. True compassion is drowned by the baying and shuffle of the flock, bleating through a self-constructed hell.  The fire in your heart is out. That once blazing light wreathed in the gloom of depravity, that unwavering standard to rally behind, that intellectual harvest--it's now barren and wasted, strangled by weeds of complacency, frozen and bloodless in passion's tomb.  I must escape sentimentality; clear away these dusty, maudlin affections; turn my back on the corpse of the past; learn to accept the death of ideals.  Everything has changed.  Nothing has changed.
By Endurance We Conquer (Summit)
Waves crash down, unrelenting, unending.  We are stone shaped by the force of its abuse; colossal mountain ranges eroded to jagged shorelines; aged cliff tops, decrepit and helpless; earthen cadavers now ripe for mining to the very core of our souls.  Or so we would have you think.  Magic is willpower.  Willpower is magic.  Self-knowledge is the key to the perfect control of the will.  After destroying the decades of our youth, after being crushed under the pillars of heaven--the bonds we make and the bonds we break ever come crashing down.
Reprise (Our Enemy Civilization)
Paroled in '54 (Dwell in the Darkness of Thought and Drink the Poison of Life) - originally by Agents of Oblivion
Summer blood for fighting dogs.  Mardi Gras nineteen fifty-four.  Oh no, he never liked Lincoln at all, my child.  I always thought the sun was just some hole in the sky till now.  As we float this corpse ashore.  Paroled in '54.  The four whores of the apocalypse laugh.  Houses burning full of yellowed photographs.  Of our children in fear disappearing from the ledge.  Is god just an echo I hear in my head?  As we float this corpse ashore.  Paroled in '54.  Summer blood for fighting dogs.  I been everywhere on the same side of some road with you.  The way that I remember being born was like waking from a dream.  I bet your mother never ever heard you SING that song for me.  Somewhere we can't see from here. 
Screaming at a Wall (Degradation of Human Life) - originally by Minor Threat
I'm gonna knock it down any way that I can.  I'm gonna scream.  I'm gonna yell.  But I don't want to have to use my hands.  It's like screaming at a wall.  Someday it's gonna fall.  You've built this wall up around you.  And now you can't see out.  And you can't hear my words no matter how hard I shout.  It's like screaming at a wall.  Someday it's gonna fall.  You're safe inside, and you know it because I can't get to you.  And you know I resent it.  And my anger grows.  You better reinforce those walls until you don't have room to stand.  Because someday those walls are gonna fall.  Someday I'm gonna use my hands.
Well Fed Fuck (Clone compilation Volume Two) - originally by Born Against
Are you a good team player?  Remember the boss is your best friend.  Kill your head.
Loneliness Dances in the Gorgon's Stare (Tears That Soak a Callous Heart)
Those tools which freed us from otherworldly jailors have betrayed us to a pantheon of technology.  What use is limitless knowledge if it cripples us to action?  What use is logic if it drapes us in cruelty?  Soul and intellect remain in a perpetual state of war.  Moral atrophy: The heart grows frigid and distant; the skin becomes scaled and hard as rock; our kings are crowned in their dependence; our only inklings of nature are clouded and obscured.  How we clutch to our breasts philosophies of violence.  How we cling to these meaningless sides.  We are as one suicidal force careening towards a unified end.  Hopes and prayers cannot save us.  But neither can your careful research.  Neither can your complex statistics.  Neither can your precious analyses.  All of your science and reasoning is for naught.
Shorties With MP40s, The Personal is the Political (The Degradation of Human Life)
Our sisterhood is a vast and powerful ocean, a deep well of true meaning sustaining consistent and conflicting emotions and giving life value, while the constant flow of the tides caress the sides of impassive rock and create the contours of interaction that touch every layer of society.  We are free! Free of your necrophilic hatred of life. Free of your all-in-my-head self doubt. Endless is our journey through trackless void, shapeless is our movement, assuming any and all forms, elemental is our force gaining wisdom in the face of desolation, and joyful is the sound of Medusa's laughter ringing in our ears.  Although we have been exploited as passive pawns in the mad dash to domination, not even the heaviest most painful nor the most subtle and gilded manacles will keep us imprisoned in the home or racked with guilt over self realization and self control, neither can we be constrained beneath a glass ceiling in the rat race of your job world. Patriarchy ends here. Wisdom is attained in the face of utter destruction. And the joyful sound of Medusa's laughter rings in our ears.
The Eyes of the World are Upon You (Dwell in the Darkness of Thought and Drink the Poison of Life)
Enter panoptic nightmare:  Freedom ignored; hopes of privacy abandoned.  Jeremy--your visions have been realized.  Samuel--the world is now a prison.  An omniscient presence permeates all.  The cold gaze of our superiors spies on us from cyclopean eyes, eavesdropping from a universe away.  All our movements are tracked and recorded.  Blackest night no longer conceals.  Emphasize normalization and observation producing only social fragmentation.  Bureaucrats cling to their paperwork and technocrats cling to their data.  Certificates authenticate life.  Individuals defined in nine digits.  Transparent society: This is not the answer.  Secrets must be exchanged.  Intimacy demands haven.  But in the light of days nothing is sacred.
I am the Leviathan (The Degradation of Human Life)
Ten thousand years and what do we have: schools replaced with factories.  Psychic vampires consume our moans, and houses are replaced with cubicles.  For too long have we been dwarfed by monuments to ourselves, toiling in the shadow of collective self worth.  Dialogue has been replaced by the ravings of mind gangsters. But soon this will all be swept under Lotan's tide.  The rubble of the past creates the walls of the future.  Holdouts of civilization tremble.  Nationalistic pride crumbles.  The protracted murder of the planet ends.  Forsake your barren half life.  Unchain the chthonic beasts.
Don't Vote (The Degradation of Human Life)
Every four years the two-headed monster rises from its pit, and we have a choice between this head or that.  Their party line separation is a phantasm haunting reason.  It's a choice between this diseased hand or that diseased hand.  We are criminals who defy law.  They are criminals who defy freedom.  Endless heads of a bureaucratic hydra, and so the smiling wounds we draw across each neck.  While they lounge in the decadence of their capitols and dream up new rules of social conduct, we shall sink a knife in every Caesar, we shall aim our rifles and fire at every president, every senator, every statesman.  Wake up. There won't be any change.  In the sewer of capitalism, only the scum will rise.
Out of the Mouth of a Fool (Baton Rouge, You Have Much to Answer For)
In the place where apathy reigns supreme, in the land of empty stares, in the land of walking corpses--animated wastes of time.  This is our home.  Drenched in a torrent of dissension, raining down poisoned arrows, scarring the landscape, infecting us all.  Neighborhoods separated by vast gulfs of personality.  Action discouraged.  Decadence praised.  Drink from the swollen wineskin, so full of pus.  Bathe amongst the refuse and scum.  Don the cloak of deceit.  Take baleful curses to your lips.  Death to passion.  Death to innovation.  Long live assimilation.
By Every Hand Betrayed (Baton Rouge, You Have Much to Answer For)
Through a boggy haven was cut a swath three miles long.  Into it you dumped tar and concrete, hate and fear.  Standing so tall, even Death would tremble to take you.  Running shoulder to shoulder with lions and wolves.  But you're nothing.  A pack of liars.  Fakers.  Cowards.  Trapped now forever in this ghost town.  Shambling spectres haunting these streets.  Boundaries not set by concrete and bars--boundaries are set by neighborhoods and bars.  You are paralyzed by apathy and cloaked in jaded elitism.  Your wasted potential surrounds me, binds me, suffocates me.  I yearn to retreat from your fortresses of bloated excess.  My ears fall deaf to your stammering quips and shrill complaints.  We stand eternal on the cusp of something great destined to always fall short.  Decimation may be our only saving grace.  Or will we stand eternal?
Fleurs de Mal (Tears That Soak a Callous Heart)
The demonic seed of European imperialists has swollen with ripeness.  Its blossoms signal moral decay, salivating to conquer.  A diseased concept of unalienable rights.  A distorted view of sexuality.  A plague upon evolution.  Industrialists and aristocrats--rotting in your fancy suits, burning like cigars hung between weak lips, choking beneath the smokestacks of progress.  Protectors and providers--teachers of self loathing, sentinels of the abattoirs, guardians of status quo.  May you choke on your own masochistic sermons and be ground beneath the heels of conformity.  My dearest comrades and young rebels--We're just more of the same.  Bourgeois shackles of pacifism and inaction enabling oppression.  We are accessories to slavery.  Bound together by invisible reins.  Pulsing through the veins.  The same tumultuous, glorious blood.
The Song of Illuminate Darkness (Our Enemy Civilization)
The behaviors imposed by society are but a veneer surrounding the darkness, a saving illusion hollow at the core.  The darkness is the truth.  It stands in silent righteousness, the background that reveals the foreground.  And no human fabrication can supplant it with the dustbin of progress.  Actualize industrial collapse.  We've stolen fire from the gods to raze their concrete tombs.  We've cried our sorrows to the wind and the earth.  And the pines stretch upwards,  Nature's fingers straining towards the sky.  They will reach out and pull down every ivory tower, destroying the elite, and returning arcane knowledge and lore to all.  Now we can remove our masks and seek out vengeance, a saboteur in every occupation and a wrench in every machine.  Remove your masks and find vengeance.  Outside the walls of civilization lies a wilderness beyond belief and without end.
The Defeatist's Lament (We Pass Like Night, From Land to Land)
Homme mort ne fait guerre et je suis mort.  
Unmasked (We Pass Like Night, From Land to Land)
Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos (Reincarnation Prayer)
It began as simple subversion of politics by just a handful of proactive liberals: support from the outside to petty thieves, criminal masterminds, and seething malcontents.  While we re-educated ourselves in confinement, our allies began infiltrating the positions of repressive power.  Many years it would take.  But soon we held all the keys.  And all doors were opened.  The destruction of oppression birthed baptismal flames of a bright, new future.  No more prisons.
Burning Black Coals and Dark Memories (Peasant)
My mistakes light up the sky, a horde of blazing stars through night's black curtain.  They guide me safely along an endless passage over dangerous waters.  From the summit of a towering mountain, leaping at once to a jagged shoreline, flesh and muscle impaled.  I have destroyed that bridge, but the gift of strength and defiance can never be damaged.  If my haven is but a weight chaining me to stagnation, then I must call to the thunder to break these bonds, escape into the chaos of the burning sands, and surround myself in self destruction.  And surround myself in deconstruction.  So it is the consequence of exploration and expansion.  Alone--self discovery.  Recognition of power.  Isolate intelligence.  I am the emissary.  I am the balance.  I am the beginning.  I am the end.x
The Work Ethic Myth (Peasant)
We have paved the roads that have led to our own oppression.  Fear of the unknown, of rejection, has put brutes and villains in power.  The fetters that restrict our arms and throats were cast by our own hands, just as we have set our own guards at the door.  We drag boulders a thousand leagues to erect their palaces.  We have established a system of education that celebrates sacrifice and creates generations of slaves.  Hold hands in a ritual of deception.  Hold hands in a ritual of desolation.  Hold hands in a ritual of self destruction.  We are the accomplice class: footstools for our masters, spineless bastards all.
An Age Imprisoned (Peasant)
One thousand shattered mirrors could never erase this grotesque image from my mind.  The chains of one million addictions can never ease the discomfort of my consciousness.  Every waking thought centered on this weak, despicable, hideous shell.  In stance and walk and all movement--secrets are laid bare.  Nothing left, but our eyes cannot meet.  Clearly, repugnance dances across your face as you silently laugh at the misshapen husk shambling before you.  Trapped in this decaying tomb, trapped in this wretched prison--confined to flesh.
Belt of Fire to Guide Me, Cloak of Night to Hide Me (Peasant)
Red am I in battle.  Red the ravens at my heels.  I will keep no terms with my enemies.  Always on the point of perishing, always in danger--but to give an inch, to make any compromise, a single concession--is defeat.  Burn away these eyes that seek weakness.  May their quests lead them to the wolves-- to fang, to claw, to axe, to sword.--tearing, ripping, cleaving, left by the wayside of man.  Red am I in battle.  Red the ravens at my heels.
The Road of Many Names (Peasant)
Pale-skinned, marsh dwellers, emerge from your murky caves.  Wanderlust takes hold.  The way stands clear, a gaping maw set to swallow the future.  We travel across the burning sands to an open coast, greeted with waves of indifference.  Northward--over mountains which rise like spears offering twisted paths, crooked smiles at the abysmal nothingness above.  Oh, these sour times.  We return covered in rags and our filth, dissension in our ranks like our closest friend.  Home has been sacrificed in the harvest of experience.
They Stretch Out Their Hands (Peasant)
The fire's light casts shadows across the faces of abandoned gods.  Looming stone monoliths stand silently as a pantheon of superstition burns:  emotional immolation.  The thorned crown of self sacrifice, the horns and fur of immature rebellion, the false personification of nature--gives way to this passionate holocaust, to a reawakening of reason, to the triumph of the will.  The stars' dull shine offers not approval nor any earthly feeling.  It only illuminates our naked forms.  Throw your frail bodies down.  Throw your white bodies down.  Throw your skinny bodies down.  Throw your pale bodies down.
Baton Rouge, Louisiana (Baton Rouge, You Have Much to Answer For)
Black Sabbath (Through the Empires of Eternal Void) - originally by Black Sabbath
What is this that stands before me?  Figure in black which points at me.  Turn around quick, and start to run.  Find out I'm the chosen one.  Oh no.  Big black shape with eyes of fire, telling people their desire.  Satan's sitting there, he's smiling, watches those flames get higher and higher.  Oh no, no, please, God help me.  Is it the end, my friend?  Satan's coming 'round the bend.  People running 'cause they're scared.  The people better go and beware.  No, no, please, no .
Lord of This World (Through the Empires of Eternal Void) - originally by Black Sabbath
You've searching for your mind don't know where to start.  Can't find the key to fit the lock on your heart.  You think you know but you are never quite sure.  Your soul is ill but you will not find cure.  Your world was made for you by someone above.  But you choose evil ways instead of love.  You made me master of the world where you exist.  The soul I took from you was not even missed.  Lord of this world: Evil possessor.  Lord of this world: He's your confessor now.  You think you're innocent you've nothing to fear.  You don't know me, you say, but isn't it clear?  You turn to me in all your worldly greed and pride.  But will you turn to me when it's your turn to die? 
Into the Void (Through the Empires of Eternal Void) - originally by Black Sabbath
Rocket engines burning fuel so fast, up into the night sky they blast.  Through the universe the engines whine.  Could it be the end of man and time?  Back on earth the flame of life burns low.  Everywhere is misery and woe.  Pollution kills the air, the land and sea.  Man prepares to meet his destiny.  Rocket engines burning fuel so fast, up into the night sky so vast.  Burning metal through the atmosphere.  Earth remains in worry, hate and fear.  With the hateful battles raging on, rockets flying to the glowing sun.  Through the empires of eternal void, freedom from the final suicide.  Freedom fighters sent out to the sun escape from brainwashed minds and pollution.  Leave the earth to all its sin and hate and find another world where freedom waits.  Past the stars in fields of ancient void, through the shields of darkness where they find love upon a land, a world unknown where the sons of freedom make their home.  Leave the earth to Satan and his slaves.  Leave them to their future in the grave.  Make a home where love is there to stay.  Peace and happiness in every day.
Sweet Leaf (Through the Empires of Eternal Void) - originally by Black Sabbath
Alright now.  Won't you listen?  When I first met you, didn't realize.  I can't forget you, for your surprise.  You introduced me, to my mind, and left me wanting, you and your kind.  I love you.  Oh you know it.  My life was empty, forever down.  Until you took me, showed me around.  My life is free now.  My life is clear.  I love you, sweet leaf, though you can't hear.  Come on now, try it out.  Straight people don't know, what you're about.  They put you down and shut you out.  You gave to me a new belief.  And soon the world will love you, sweet leaf.
Sifting (Baton Rouge, You Have Much to Answer For) - originally by Nirvana
Afraid to grade.  Wouldn't it be fun.  Cross, self loss.  Wouldn't it be fun.  Wet your bed.  Wouldn't it be fun.  Some feel none.  Wouldn't it be fun.  Your eyes, teacher said.  Preacher said.  Don't have nothing for you.  Spell the smell.  Wouldn't it be fun.  Search for church.  Wouldn't it be fun.  Wet your bed.  Wouldn't it be fun.  Cold and coals.  Wouldn't it be fun.  Your eyes, teacher said.  Preacher said.  Don't have nothing for you. 
Rats and Mice and Swarms of Lice (We Pass Like Night, From Land to Land)
It's not my fault.  I'm a victim of stolen youth, born a villain.  This life impoverished, this mind untrained--where else can I turn but to violence, to the power of intimidation, to attack and abuse?  Forever searching for advantage, any advantage.  It's not my fault.  I'm just following orders.  Maintaining these sacred laws, ever obedient.  Forever searching for any sign of crime, of deception.  Unless crime would serve my own ends, then I attack and abuse.  It's never my fault.  I'm a victim of unwarranted abuse.  Born to privilege, always on top, but always on guard, forever searching for any sign of threat.  We are not safe.   
Here I Stand Head in Hand (We Pass Like Night, From Land to Land)
That stained light of truth I abhor, that unflinching glimmer of experience...  The world has turned its back and left me with shit.  Nothing inside, only void:  vacant eyes, vacant mind, vacant hope.  Summon the strength.  I was not wrong to be afraid.  The cup of life is forever poisoned.  But if all in this time lies beyond my grasp, then this one final act will be fully in my control.  One brief moment, and I am freed of everything, liberated from this painful existence.
The Severed Genitals of Every Rapist Hang Bleeding From These Trees (Malfeasance / Retribution)
These open hands that once would have offered forgiveness and even rehabilitation are now closed fists bludgeoning flesh.  A knife across your throat opens a wide, red mouth forever mute to taunts, to insults, to threats.  You are nothing, empty, worthless.  If only it was enough to lock you away in the deepest, darkest hole.  Swallow the bitterness of my tongue.  Absorb the nectar of my discharge.  Feel my hatred crashing down on you like a hammer--caving in your skull, spilling to the floor all that empty rhetoric about art, betrayal, and desire.  Oh, to string up your naked body like the soulless devil that you are.  To stab and dismember your hanging form.  Let the blood rain down and wash away this pointless shame, this unnecessary guilt, this unbearable violation.  And now decorate the trees with the corpse of past transgression--adornments of vengeance, a forest of abatement, a monument to suffering.  You are nothing, empty, worthless, a black hole.
Their Hooves Carve Craters in the Earth (The Evolution of a Group Under a Bad Influence) (Malfeasance / Retribution)
The memories of revolution disappear as the wind shifts.  But a mighty, reckless, shameless, conscienceless, proud crime--it rumbles in distant thunder.  And do you not see how the sky grows presciently silent and dark?  Propaganda must be by deed:  insurrection, assassination, bombing.  Resignation is death.  Revolt is life.  I will never willingly wear the chains of your sacred concepts:  Natural Law, Common Humanity, Reason, Justice, The People.  There is no hope in conditioned morality.  I deny everything and affirm only myself.  We can all enter this bitter class struggle.  We are all ordinary workers, natives.  We must rise in revolt if we will rise in this world.  Resignation is death.  Revolt is life.
Smoke Pigs (Thrive & Decay) (one, explanation, two, three, four, five, Jena Six)
Please calm down with all the violent rhetoric.  Some people who put on a badge are just trying to help people--just trying to do some good.  My dad, mom, uncle, aunt, brother, sister, son, daughter is a cop.  I don't want to hear another word about bribery. I don't want to hear about  racial profiling, broken bones, or prison rape--or another unarmed kid filled from head to toe with fifty government-issued bullets.  There is a fundamental flaw in your desire.  There is a psychological deficiency in policing others.  Those who maintain a structure of unjust laws, those who bow to the province of the few, those who would coerce others under the implicit threat of violent subjugation--your reign is at an end.  When they attack in the name of the law, we will retaliate in the name of liberty.
What Blood Still Flows From These Veins (The Retaliation of the Immutable Force of Nature)
Twenty-six years of self-imposed exile.  Now I stagger from the desert, both eyes blind, without hands.  But I still see.  And I must act.  Is there nothing left to do but dissolve my conscience?  What good is sympathy, what good is approval, when everyday I put on this hood and cleave the guilty limb from limb?  Guilty of what?  Of being subordinates to a race of egotistical misanthropes.  We breed them without limbs and then rip them from their mother's womb.  We pack their bodies together as tight as we can, stand them amongst urine and feces.  Inject them with chemicals, livestock hacked apart piece by piece until the eyes we spray with poison just barely make out their impending doom.  But screams can't come from throats covered in cancer.  And there is no willpower left in a heart we infected with AIDs.  Our axes are sharp, but we still cut them slow.  They must feel every agonizing second of pain.  They must know who's in charge.  Ignorance and sloth rule the land.  But an army rises from the ashes of despair.  You can see a forest of black banners on the horizon.  Marching ever so closer.  Marching.
With a Cold, Life Extinguishing Elegance (Tyrant)
What do you want me to say?  What would you have me do?  Must I rip out my own tongue and deafen these ears, stop an uncomfortable conversation before it starts?  Must I tear out my own eyes, so I don't have to watch this constant self mutilation?  Excuses.  Lies.  I swallowed them whole.  Must I bite my lip so hard that a river of blood will choke back the criticism you're sure to hear in my voice?  You cannot stop.  I will not stop.  Excuses and lies, I swallowed them whole.  Oh, godless day with no sun to see that I've gone.  And the night will not miss the breath from my lungs.  It just moves on.
Monstrance (Tyrant)
The enchantment is broken forever.  The bonds are severed.  Now brush away these puppet strings.  No more will I dance to the steady beat of lies.  Get this through your head:  We are done.  The future in your eyes is washed away in reality's tide.  My blind faith is washed away in reality's tide.  Infallibility is washed away in reality's tide.  The ebb and flow that once drew me back has ground me to shore while you're lost at sea.  Wave after wave after wave after wave, the truth finally revealed.  Patience worn away.  Sympathy worn away.  How long did we drag this out?  I you had let me, would I have let it go on forever?  How many times did you look me in the eye and lie right to my face?  Were you just laughing away the whole time?  Or did you just look at me in pity and disgust?  Now we have escaped from beneath the shadow of Ouroboros.  Misery perpetual.  Now I've turned my back on emotional wreckage.  Now I've paid respects to the corpse of hopeful dreams.  Now silence surrounds.  Silence can be broken by reminiscence, by self recriminations.  You were right.  You're not a good person.  And you're not worth my time.  You were right.
Tyrant (Tyrant)
We're slaves to conditioning.  Hidden eyes judge us from the heavens, unseen fingers choking free will back down our throats.  You can never escape the foul presence of christianity.  And to ignore the divine contradictions, and to reject a fictitious morality, and to scorn superstitions, and to put your faith in logic--this is the path to your damnation.  And you shall know them by the fruit they bear:  intolerance, manipulation, genocide.  All in the name of a god conjured in the imaginations and machinations of men.  How dejected and unfulfilled.  Look to me in hate, pity or indifference--but don't expect longing or acceptance in these eyes, or in these words--not for your pompous egotism, boisterous moral posturing, righteous indignation, or resignation to constant suffering.  I would rather burn in hell than cling to man-made falsehoods.  I would rather live in constant doubt and fear, expecting an unfeeling abyss than embrace false hope or extravagant fairy tales.  There is no great shaper in the heavens.  Nothingness awaits.
I Was Ignored. And Judged. And Cast Down. (Tyrant)
Fire made flesh.  Renounce the throne.  Screams split the sky.  Fall to the sea.  My heart has been reshaped in flames of treachery, bent beneath the hammering blows of alienation.  It's now a dark thing of iron resolve and unyielding hatred.  Grinding my teeth in contempt...  Free will made flesh.  Renounce the divine.  With black sword in hand, my steps carry me back to my tormentors.  I realize all the grim sternness of my own cold building with its wealth of breathing misery and my own desolate heart to endure it all.  But it is the curse of greatness that it must step over dead bodies to create new life.  And now there is change. The serpent has turned its head to strike its master.  Those suffocating under dominion have broken their chains.  Privilege destroyed.  Wealth ground to dust.  Power laid to waste.  Grinding teeth in contempt, with black swords in hand, stepping over dead bodies, and creating new life.
Fucking Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean (Tyrant)
This freezing chamber is inescapable.  These ashen walls are insurmountable.  Empty sockets see nothing but black, black, black abyss.  Endless gloom.  Endless solitude.  A lifeless form.  Twilight eternal.  The current sweeps their bodies to shore.  The last reminder of the death they endured.  Of the oceans depths, they are now sure.  No escape.  Reaper, join us.  Father of death, return to us.  Empty sockets see nothing but black, black, black abyss.  We are all lost between hell and the sea.  The surface is shimmering--just beyond our reach.  Why?  Why have we been abandoned?  Shadows grasp at the ghosts of memories.  There is no release.  There is no end in sight.  Tomorrow will never come.  I cannot let go.  I can never let go.
Acceptance (The Retaliation of the Immutable Force of Nature)
No Longer With Us (Call No Man Happy Until He is Dead)
Call No Man Happy Until He is Dead (Call No Man Happy Until He is Dead)
Binder (Call No Man Happy Until He is Dead)
Kill With Science (Call No Man Happy Until He is Dead)
Visible From Space (Call No Man Happy Until He is Dead)