Supreme and Immortal Is the Art of the Devil

Empty the vessel and hollow the shell Come, toungues of fire Abandon all earthly, glance deep into hell Purge and inspire The act of worship sets us ablaze Demonic burden, ecstatic delight A monument of malicious sonority Our humble sacrifice, devotional rite Revealed in the flesh Justified in the spirit Seen by the chosen Heard by the few All earthly vanities of existence Exceeded by tones supreme Melodies older than mortality Enormous as death itself Praise his name Chosen are the ones Who have command of the language That needs neither mouth nor words Who transform the inmost truth to notes Who form sculptures reflecting his glory And spread the gospel of the horned We’ve been granted the most precious gift We are element and entirety Performing the everlasting cycle Without beginning or end Find the unimaginable paradise Amidst these pits of hell Those who chant his hymns Hallowed be their names Immortal is the choir Only the highest art Supreme and impure Purified through his will Great indeed, we confess, is the mystery of him

Submitted by Finntroll — Apr 22, 2025

Souls of infidel men Form a fertile soil Like dusky forest grow On rotten leaves below Souls of infidel men Wither and burn Like arid grass on dead ground Forsaken, eternally bound We feed on the essence of mortal weakness The flames chain the fallen and proud Holyness, purity, and all gifts of light Long vanished, decayed and dead Buried by god’s children eons ago Heathens, sordid and profane We are the legion, the leveling horde True to the laws of the horned Faithful and strengthened and Fiercely unbound Lurking to gather the mourned Planted is the seed of him And no blood flows in our veins Nurtured by souls of infidel men In the kingdom where darkness Forever reigns Soil of souls Behold and see Glorious our realm will be Immortalis et semper fidelis

Submitted by johnmansley — Apr 22, 2025