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Ævangelist - Matricide In The Temple Of Omega lyrics



Tracks



01. Divination

(Instrumental)

02. Æon Death Knell

Twisting, breaking, the wall of entry falls
My bloodred eyes open and shrouded in skin
My womb torn from my outset in the ending
And the shaking I bring to reality is all come forth

A passionate discord drinking my spilled essence
Without cause without reason my glyph is rung
Wrung from the steel of every trap like memory
And the skin that signals me inked with emptiness

Let us bow to her, call the craven masses
Let us sing her beauty and perfection
The goddess twisted and torn from beginning
Êon against the demiurge incarnated

Those antisubliminal lights my heritage
The ebon grasp on this gnarled carnescence
Carnelian sundrance like spoiled blood
A reverberation of time unlike time

Solemnly, in the highest regard
My prayers to you I send, blessed mother
Mother and queen to the void
Êon against the demiurge incarnated

[those antisubliminal . . . ]

[tongues]

Let us bow to her, drinking my spilled essence
Let us sing her beauty--my glyph is rung
The goddess twisted from every trap like memory
And the skin that signals me inked with emptiness
A passionate discord, call the craven masses
Without cause, without reason and perfection
Wrung from the steel and torn from beginning
Êon against the demiurge incarnated

03. Omen Of The Barren Womb

Child, sing the skin of your beginning
This membrane torn out, this burning
Blood, slew the song of your evoking
That which binds the seed is blackness

Made manifest, this endless soft expanse of dual impenetrable
The false embedded sense of self that vibrates through our names
The Êon is barren the temple is ruins and plague afflicts the whole
The firstborn shall not and nothing will come from that which hangs
Beneath the surface of meaning and at the edge of knowledge of self-as-god

Inability echoes throughout all life
Nothing binds and all is aching
This prolonged suicide is catholic
And the saints dip and melt as one

Anechoic slipping voices filled words phonemes pinions of ecstasy
Wing south to eternity lace amethyst with chewed flesh of angels

Inability

Slumbering reminiscence of violation twisted against hope cascading
Denial of purgation embrace of seeding with the sleep of the end

[child, . . . ]

04. The Sonance Of Eternal Discord

Silence spreads like wildfire
In the depth of beginning
Is the seed of the end
When the voice aches and bends
The stratum is made tight
And discarnation looms in echoes
Like the tight fist of despair

Where the shadows sit
My bones do heave
All distanced from
the name of God
In each white hand
My sunken gloomred
Fragment of still
Unshaking form

05. Serpentine As Lustful Nightmare

Our arms in hers, our faces to the void
Spoiled flower of dysfunction enthralling
Êon of carnescence, Êon of miscarriage
Slipping beauty of excrescence and denouement

Our death her life, our shaking her song
Bright-dark emblem of entropy beckoning
Êon of silk shining, Êon of emptiness
One true divinity singing perfect end

Cygne-serpent d'ivoire, de dissolution
Cette ange dèpouillèe chantait dissonance
Ailes des anges noires ma diadëme
Realitè mon enfant de sang discontent
Que mes aspirations brillent imparfaits
Votres ríves fleuriront seules dans mes horizons
Dix-sept mes limbes, gesticulant au divinitè
Bredouillent du nul qui rèsultait

06. Ascending Into The Pantheon

I tremble to bear forth the word that ends the world
My spine aches to feel des iridèes qui surgent
The blossoms which surge to new duty
Shimmering spores of goddess-sound to shake the silk

Birth of radiation I stifle in the skin of my throat
Black petals falling to cloak the shining cosmos
Diamonds buried in focused still birth and suicide
Burning victorious in the scent enveloping

Ik ben moeder--Je suis mëre--I am mother of the end
Hail Omega hail the Void I am the blackness I am the end

My flameborn diadem of stelliferous devourment
Placid with purpose, the welling of my fruit
Empty and lashing the towers of the firmament
Notre chance sans doigts atteint broderie

The grammarie, resin, soaked in my burning bones
Calls the end-swan in her iron-trumpeted ribs
The gleaming path to the age-dark silver of Him
Notre anemi, le coffre sans idoles enfin