The shapeless nightmare in center of Chaos,
Which abominable curls and boil in the heart of infinity,
In incomprehensible dark chambers out of time.
There, where do not reach out dreams,
Creations which in the ancient times poisoned conception of time,
Choking with white bones of endless generations.

Kaleidoscope of epochs is a moment of slumber for them.
You shouldn't even try to imagine their fragments of life to save common sense and soul.
Tormented by severe hunger they rush though deserted dimensions to other worlds and other starts.

Copulating with emptiness they erupt hordes of poisoned shadows,
Raping our dreams.
Their spilling semen burns hungry black holes in space,
Devouring suns and galaxies.

Once the nightmare will find a way outside and becomes a daymare.
Gods will shudder in compassion to our reality in cause of such loathing is in her secret womb.

The ancient ones will rise and will be among us.
The champing repulsive paste of a living flesh.
The horror which is beyond all human representations.
Horror absorbing and disgusting mind, body and soul.

Exhaling stench like smoldering sepulchral fire of leaving generations,
humanity shall leave the borders drawn for it.
The calmness has gone away,
Born to pieces by shouts.
The word collapses under the fire skies.

The broken phantoms will dull lackluster eyes that look into themselves are roaming the streets.
Ominous humility on calm dead faces.

The repercussion of soul freezing cries and disgusting bone crunch walk like echo in aborted wombs of devastated megalopolises.
The corpses from the dead worlds,
Which had a cities like ulcers,
swollen porous parcels of the decaying flesh and crumbling bones,
too awful to be buried.

Here they are Adam's sons and daughters.

We'll be devoured by endless spaces of another another worlds.
Cold wet interior of crypt will become a mother's womb with dead infant inside.
We were blind,
Protecting our delusions,
Imagined ourselves to be Gods.
We laughed at time and law.
Permissiveness darkened our mind.

Now it's time for a way in nothingness.
Down, by steps to nonexistence and oblivion our dead bodies will whisper theirs secrets to living ones,
who made a step to us through the threshold of madness.

We're standing on the edge of confluence with chaos where all forms,
Powers and symmetry dies.
The pride costs us a lot.
Now it is too late.
Indifference and apathetic universe force will get rid of us easily as it's brought us here.
And only grimy time will be watching us eternally falling into emptiness.

Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust.

The citadel of Decline and plunder with abandoned and leaved bastions of consciousness.
The cold tower of flesh which used to be a human being.

The all-conquering dust eaten soul away.
The invading horror built a nest within eye-sockets.
The barbed wire of memoirs twisted around neck.
The skull fills with indeterminate but depraved stench.
Defilement, memory's sacrilege and spasm of mind.
Your Hear vomits out slime.
refectory emasculation and feverish lobotomy.

Convulsively dipping into sucking caverns of thirst disgusting emptiness,
You try to expel legions of the stiffened dead mean from the houses of eternal rest.

The Sleep of reason produces monsters.

The sleeper must awaken.

The collective hypnosis leading into a web of pseudo-memoirs.
Travel to sticking and shameless dreams about life.
The consciousness moves to the other side or phase of eternity.
Approaching of ancient and formerly passive nightmare.
Travelling of neuronaunt.
Existence beyond the wall of sleep.

Pulsing hysteria in coma.
Incubatory visions tearing outside.
Ptomaine dementia rised over all mankind and memories.
The dumb evidence of amputated mind,
Napalm-burnt soul and entrails stuffed with medicines.

Hollow realms of anabiotic void breeding by false worship.
Victim's savour on the lips of oraquel palpitating path from bloody ordeals to coup de graco .
Unprecedented rapture of obscene scarification.
Body integrity identity disorder is sacrilege cult.
Apostate apostle incapable of cure.

I think, therefore, I am.
I think, therefore I'm damned.
I kill, therefor I am.
I'm dead, therefore, I'm God.

Extraterrestrial beings have become frequent visitors of the Earth.
So far they are concealed,
they only scrutinize humans without destroying their Eden.

They carry out experiments with us,
Trying to breed with us,
To adapt faster to our living conditions.

Their sons are already among us, Half-humans, Half-aliens.

The unearthly bloodlust is what reveals their origin at dusk.
This time we shouldn't sleep!

Remind your headache the sunset dream.
That was the time they've been torturing your fragile body.
It takes no effort for them to kill human by disintegrating his being.
But they won't be able to fit this planet without us.

Human body is only the cover for their real aspect.
Visible strength is a visual deceit.
Our Fears, their inhabitancy.

It's known, they are not the first, who trying to substitute life values.
Gradually they interweaved deception and fear,
Which help them to control us,
Control us by poisoning from within.

Repugnance and horror are the mainspring of their desires.
While we permit them to suffocate ourselves by life,
Self-cerement in hypocrisy, sing psalms to treachery,
They be lords of not-our lives, masters of not-our world.
It's their well guarded secret.
It's our well forgotten truth.

Willfully we put on manacles of submission, the disease is inside ourselves.
It will be gone when we stop to fear, it will escape when we open our eyes.
There is no disease except me.

My hatred has no name.
I'll cut-throat my weakness and teach you how to do it.
Where the cure is helpless, it's necessary to act by fire and sword, bewitched mean must be torn out.
We'll pass the boundaries of this cramped world together and take a look from below.
Truth comes to light, it's fuel our hatred.

They shall not leave nor surrender without a battle.
Neither self-healing nor miracle.
This is never-ending.
We can wake up only through pain and bereavements.
Tear the sheep's coat and thrust the wolves' canines into shepherd.
This is not whim, it's a matter of survival.
But they shall not release the slaves.
Flock waits other fate.
They've got only knife for the sheep.
Gore Conspiracy!

I revolted with the Earth in uncertainty and without name.
I have lived my lives without counts.
My life- just a second of a dream in trans-stellar space,
A little stop on a way from one unknown chasm to the other.

Fragile pulsation of my anti-life, vagueness of crystal-clear oblivion from which the temptress life has called me for one short unfortunate instant.

In a frenzy of despair, in oppressive dismal atmosphere of seclusion, in a lack of interest in life,
Without stimulus, yearnings and hopes I continue my way through deep space and parallel horizons neither dead nor dreaming.

Thousand times for one my breath madness and unmadness has traded places.
I'm a source of unpurity.
My world- a veil which hid cosmic chaos.
I'm ritual reiterate dead world's mantra
That is not dead which can eternal lie and with strange aeons even death may die

Magical blood rised from the depths of my heart.
I revive the world with my blood.
I call my name by myself.

[Instrumental]

There is no God, and we are his prophets.

People always prepare for the future.
But the future does not wait for them.
It does not suspect about their existence at all.
And where people will not survive, Gods has nothing to do.

The man will taken and taken away, considering that all of it is his own by right.
While the earth will not answer,
I do not exist any more and there is nothing for me to give you more.

Confidence in our perfection emerged from coitus of myths and legends, which had been imaginary themselves.
We are nailed to our belief in our omnipotence.
We should be asking about insight and remembrance to starts.
But we have found hidden keys from abyss and we open the gates.
The doors that guide into darkness can become gates into nightmare.
And now oblivion is waiting in the dark to bless us.
Open the gates!

And in a next moment, awakening without the mankind world will continue its infinite way in dense space,
It will disregard and indifferent forgotten about thousands years of empires, progress and bloodlines.

When we'll die, nobody remains except Death.
But its days will be counted also.

Purity and order banish from the world a long time ago.
All my being is penetrated by disgust for senseless and empty life.

Only Fools are happy by promise.
I tearing the chains of agonizing existence.
I have passed the Way and I want everything to end here and forever.
My remembrance roams from is to was and tries to find the thread of Ariadne, which resuscitate me from my frigid crypt of existence.
In vain. Only cosmic devastation, despair and disgust at life.

No Gods to pray.
Life is an unasked bestowal.
The astral corpse, lost between worlds,
looking at me from the mirror.
Excommunicated from happiness and married to desperation.

Spiritual acupuncture and narcosis' tentacles on my pulse help me to cut out the nest of sickness.
Flesh is only the cage, and blade is the key to it.

I dissect cobwebs of pulsing veins, unsheathing gaping coal dark.
Black oil drops are sprinkling.
Indescribable hordes are gushing outside of me .

I cannot scream with joy,
Now it's all the same to me.