Perversion is dripping from the maws of hounds The trees are bowing, turned toward the ground The void of Lord. Inconceivable purity I can smell him in the air I know his name from late night whispers He sings to me through the trees in innumerable voices As we march toward the emptiness above the sun Deer; necks twisted, antlers rooted to the soil; Denying any and all aethereal presence The virgin ancient air It's like breathing in glass Godless rapture here Only small fractions of light The darkness comes early here; He rides its coat-tails I can smell him in the air I know his name from late night whispers He sings to me through the trees in innumerable voices As we march toward the emptiness above the sun The truth wails to us from this place Howling from the shadows Ancient tongues channeled through the baying of wolves Through exploration you will find That the depravity knows no bounds Sifted from the nourished ashes of your hate The Antichrist is fucking born Our true Father, nature is His church And my body aches from the echoes of His bellow Through the lips of a black hole If not torn apart, you will find yourself here I can smell him in the air I know his name from late night whispers He sings to me through the trees in innumerable voices As we march toward the emptiness above the sun The truth wails to us from this place Howling from the shadows Ancient tongues channeled through the baying of wolves Through exploration you will find That the depravity knows no bounds Sifted from the nourished ashes of your hate The Antichrist is fucking bornTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
