1. THE NITHING


A curse siphoning strength from the blood of a newborn
His marrow dry, Your feeble eyes fear the sun of the morn
Your cries to God, devoid of faith, with all hope gone.

A boiled skull of a mare staked to a pole
The runes writ in blood will devour his soul

The Nithing taketh place on hallows night
I can’t help myself, I feed off tears and fright
His heart will pump in vain, his lungs shall flood
So it has been written in a parchment doused with blood

So you seek out vengeance
To mend your shattered heart
Amidst decrepit and tattered scripts
You might grasp at ancient wicked arts

Your soul bereaved
Your fate I’ll weave
Lest you forget
to atone for your debt

Deeper in lust
Give me your trust
For a soul bereaved
All you can do is read

Read for me
The volumes of the dark
Serve me well and your child will breathe anew
This I swear to you


2. UNSOLEMN

Another soul has been affixed to mine
The nithing’s curse was achieved of my design
Obsidian allure coursing through his veins
His tepid mind collapses from the pain

My will becomes his will
Plunder the tombs marked with ash and with bone
My will becomes his will
Bring me the means to usurp the Lord’s Throne

Unsolemn realm,
Black as pitch and slate
Unfurling Netherscape,
The Divine,
Your air mutates

The blazing pits of coal,
Any light,
The fog negates

His son has joined me now
And when he reads from the book
I will walk the earth again

There have been many times
over dozens of years
Where I've drain a soul
Engorging my necrosphere

None could abate my desire to breed
malcontent in their hearts,
For in my foot steps they’d lead

I’d lead them down
A covenant born of hatred
And empty vows
Pledging their filthy lifeblood to me in vain
Never to see their beloved dead again

The path I lead
To those bereaved
Prey on the weak
My foul technique

Unsolemn realm, black as pitch and slate
Unfurling netherscape,
My essence will yield shape

Obsidian mist enshroud
Over stirring seas
Ashes ride the breeze

His will becomes My will
His heart’s been seared by pure black hate
Soon I will take form and ascend


3. A TOME WRIT IN BLOOD

Chapters
Solely
Designed
To reanimate
The dead

It’s leather seams
Bound by flesh
Tanned in beams
By archaic means

Creased pages unfolding
The scripts yield impure summonings

With it’s might,
The dark
At last,
It’s legions will amass

Yet heed must been taken
Dominion unforsaken
For the volumes inked in blood
Bear the mark of Satan

Sealed within a sepulchre of stone
The grit of the earth grind feet to the bone

Thousands of razors affixed to the ground
Led to the gate by whispers from burials mounds
With Obsidian lust, he is bound

The letters the swirl around the page
Bringing visions of a desolate age
Where fire rains with sulphuric winds
Where the sunlight is red and dim

Further down he finds
The air is thin
Asphyxia begins

Delirious, confused and demented
The once taut thread of sanity frayed by revenge

By my command
The dead arise
My plan he’s finalized

His love reunited
Alas he was shortsighted
For the son he once loved is gone

Alive but gone

His body licked by unholy flame
His lips pronounce my unsolemn name
The fragrance of his son’s decaying flesh
A constant portent of his eternal shame

With it’s might,
The dark
At last,
It’s legions will amass

The scrips have been taken
Salvation is forsaken
For the volumes inked in blood
Are Mine


4.DEATH FLOURISHED IN A WITHERED GROVE

Death flourished in a withered grove
With bleeding tendrils that the corpses wove
Desiccated, risen from earth
From the virulent strain, a new era is birthed

Death has found a way
It feeds upon mankind dismay
It yearns to tip the scales
And shatter the balance that was once so frail

One by one the bodies rise
With limbs and face rotted and sinewy eyes
Cremation undone, They're poised to become
The impetus of man’s demise

Beasts of scriptures long gone
With Fangs, Claws and seven-foot jaws
They howl scream and shriek in the night
Taunting the men who are too scared to fight

The lurking shadows are circling the altars
Leaving a trail marked with grime, soot, and mud
Unsealed, they cross, leaping the threshold of churches
Finally committing atrocities echoed in tomes writ in blood

Like scum, writhing in the waste
No mercy, not a trace
Razor talons drag upon the face

Soaring overhead, the damned wyverns of the dead
Beset with the thrill of the outbreaks’ first kill

Denounce your poultry gods
And tread the path once trod
The ancients found a way
To deliver yourselves from this bane

One by one the bodies rise
With limbs and face rotted and sinewy eyes
Cremation undone, They're poised to become
The impetus of man’s demise

Death has flourished albeit a bit malnourished
Her needs arise with vain contempt
For the One the darkness tempts

Honing the one, honing the one
Honing the one who will be death’s earth-born son
Honing the one, honing the one
Honing the one who will blot out the Sun

Death has flourished and sank her fangs into reverent lambs
As wolves unto sheep, She’s preyed on the meek
Mobilizing towards the Nazarene

Torn between a life obscene, with obelisks risen to remind the deed
The remnants of the old ways carry on throughout the dread filled day