1. INTRO

(Instrumental)


2. SILVERTONGUE

Tearing its foes asunder,
The demon strikes with a skin like twisting shadows
And a tongue silver with lies.
Pig's squeals and roars make its tongue,
The language of the dark.

No manner of beast daunts it;
Demons hold no fear but light.
Its victim's screams fill the night,
Breaking all slumber.
Noble men flee before it,
Their brave resolve destroyed.

Traumatised people lie in the demon's wake, all hope
And honour stolen in a heartbeat.
Under the cover of day,
Man tries to find a way...
Silvertongue, a lord amongest demons, is to be slain!


3. HORRIFIC REIGN

Relentless pain. You cry in vain.
Horrific reign over your body.
Your blood I drain, your clothes are stained.
Drives you insane. Sadomasochistic lust.
Your pain... My only wish to be maimed.
I cannot find a feeling quite the same
As being tortured.

I want nothing more than to watch you
Watch me hurt you sado-masochristically.
Bleed you... Scream too...
Watch me hurt you now.


4. DEFILED

Nostrilsflare at the stench of a fruit long forgotten.
Palms start sweating at desires overwhelming.
Sick with aggression...
Violent, coveted whims.

Hard, blunt axe is thrust into tree's flesh,
Breaching bark and breaking wood.
Crevice ripped anew.
Oozing forth the truck bleeds crimson sap.
Branches are weeping, leaves dying.
Vile axe hacking at the initial wound.
Engorged hatchet dripping with tree's vital fluids
And wound's own resin.

Forgotten fruit lie strewn on the ground just within
Malicious arm's reach,
Brief joy, but then hate. Filled with self loathing.
"It's as though I'm a zombie, I feel no pain.
Leprosy's finally broken me.
I'm a beast, disturbed and insane!"
Roots, soil and grass die away, defiled by the tree.
Skies blacken and weep down rain out of sympathy.
Splinted wood lies all around, pieces of the object
Of this imagery... this dying tree...


5. THE HOODED FIGURE

At night the hooded figure rides on wheels
Of blackened steel and bone.
His motorcycle crushing skulls beneath its tiress,
Leaving a trail of hellfire.
The hooded figure rides...
At night the hooded figure rides his motorcycle,
A demonic vessel spreading fear and loathing to all
Who witness it.

The darkest vehicle one could ever wish to find.
At night the hooded figure rides,
His task to reap those whose time has finally come.
The glinting scythe he holds serves its purpose well,
Rending souls from their bodies,
Casting them into hell.
Squeal of tires, roar of engine, blood curdles.


6. BLOOD AND SNOW

I awake to a splitting headache and the freezing cold,
And realise I'm surrounded by blood splattered snow.
This frozen wasteland is awaking my fear.
"Why does my head hurt?
How did this blood get here?"

I put my hand to the back of my punding skull.
As I pull it away i see what I'd feared.
I drag myself to my feet and start running.
Unbeknownst to me why, or where.
Confusion overwhelms my jarring fear.
"Why and i not dead? I shouldn't be here!"

My hand is covered with my own blood and brains,
Yet i am sprinting like i was never slain.
Then standing before me I see myself with eyes alight!
Halting, I stand and stare at what cannot be.
Is this mirror i see a reality?
I stride towards me and i see myself smile before
Fading away just out of my grasp.

I hear a wolf howl in the distanceon the blizzardly air,
And see a forest faintly through the fog appear.
Numbly I make towards it without hesitation.
Nothing concerns me about my destination.
As I grow closer there's a turn in the wind,
My footsteps inaudible beneath the din.

Breaching the first trees,
The wolf I heard stands before me.
It pads towards me with intent in its eyes,
And as I gaze at it, it speaks to me.

Wise are its words and deliberately spoken.
It claims that I'm a victim of possession!
I feel my demon and take over control.
Breaking skin, my ribs burst forth.
Searing pain fills my body.
Unwilling, I try to hold back the beast deeo in me,
Try to fight it!

I hear the demon voice fill my head,
And, chilling, it says:
"War with a demon is one you can't win so give it up.
You're dead!"
My mind sighs... And thus I die.


7. MARTYR

Pray yourself away.
Worship your self-inflating deity for another day if it
Helps you sleep at night,
Gives you some rules and morals to live by
Up until you die.

But then it all just fades away.
Your moral standings mean nothing
At the end of the day.

Thinking in the long run,
You live and help the world none.
Your conscience dies uncomfortably.
"Cast out the demons from deep within!
Cleanse a soiled soul of all its sins!"

Market salvation to the week of mind,
Buying your place in 'heaven' at the end of your time.
Stop cutting other's paths with the religion you sell!
Martyr, liar! You're scared of a false hell.


8. WORLD OVERTHROWN

Perpetual nightmare approaches.
Fair meadows and glades shadowed by fog.
Hell is restless; its hordes are rising.

Demons defiling the earth, molesting the innocent.
Our world will succumb to the darkness.
Skies will burn. Black sea of hate.
Under the shadow od oppression,
Death and decay are all that remain.

Nightmares realised,
Revelations carved in the flesh of those betrayed.
Lifeless bodies lie bloody and rancid. The blood of the
World on your hands.


9. DRAGONLORD

Spoken is the DragonLore.
With scales glinting ruby under the moonlight,
A noble dragon flies high.
Named Thürion is he, wise and ancient as can be,
But quick to pride and anger.

He has no knowledge of where he is bound.
Danger lies just before him.
A demon lies ahead, hiding and waiting.
Unsuspecting, the dragon glides forth carefree.

A tweak of suspicion in Thürion's mind:
"Something menacing waits ahead.
What beast would have quarrel with me?"

Of all tales of old, one is told most of all:
The epic of Thürion. The DragonLore.

Silvertongue, the demons names himself,
And evil is his intent.

Quickly approaching ambush, Thürion is on his guard,
Expection an attack.
Suddenly he is sticken.
A deep and vicious blow pierces the dragon's hide
And flesh, serving only to anger.

The dragon whips around his head and
Billows forth his flame.
Fire engulfs Silvertongue.
The demon perishes and Thürion is remembered!


10. OUTRO

(Instrumental)