Behold, your long awaited savior
See him ripped from a broken womb
A three-formed beast, this 4 of 5; Leopard, Lion, and Wolf
A golden god forged from silver spoons
Atop a throne wrought from suffering bones
Long has he poisoned these darkened woods, sick with rot
Long has he festered in the cradle of acedia
He curses the path he has ruined
And beckons us to descend
“Through me is the way into the suffering city
Through me the way into the etеrnal pain
Through me the way among the pеople lost
Before me were no things created, but eternal; and eternal I endure
Abandon hope, all ye who enter”
Innocence, wailing ignorance among the willing acolytes (slobber)
Covered in the stench of the beast, ushered across the Acheron (slobber beneath)
Awaken beyond the gates of eternal anguish
Upon your knees
Hear the shrieking
These woolen masks
Are suffocating
We see them slobber beneath that shifting flag
Coughed about on rotted beast’s breath
Never could one believe the sight or behold the thought
What sickness and fear had undone
That sickness and fear had undone so many
Now surely we must awake! Hear the horrid prophecy!
“What mind was there to speak, what words were worth this weight
That damned us in the beast’s black mire?
Our choices made us weak, now sobbing in our fate
We beg for hope in purging fire”
Though we breathe this warning like acrid smoke
We bask like naked pigs in putrid fen
We swallowers of slime, we cough, we follow
Lurching, clawing, howling
We bend our gods to meet us here
We boldly squeal ourselves as martyrs
For we are chosen
“Go forth, my wretched hordes!
Find the splendor I promised
Find your place within my kingdom!”
From a whispered seed, long howled through fetid air
A hideous awakening rises through the filth
Drunk on fear and excrement, we have been dragged to hell
With our eyes gouged open, with our bones broken
We overthrow
Eternal he endures, eternal he suffers
“Hostis humani generis” we carve, we burn upon his brow
“And what then for the beast when tyrants boil in blood?
(Where demons skewer and suffocate those who wallowed in his muck
Where the Great Deceiver, as horrid now as once was fair
Writhes in frozen gloom against his own pitiful efforts
Where blood and foam and ribboned flesh
Feed horrid creatures wailing for release
What then for the beast?” we shriek
Tenfold of these will surely be his fate)
“What then for us?” we lament
What then for us?
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Dischordia – Dark Passenger
Dischordia – Creator / Destroyer
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