Sphere of Nebaddon: The Dawn of a Dying Tyffereth
As the leaves of a autumn end The winter has envolved then In it’s cold sensibleness The dreams were envolved By the last breath of the contempt In awaked darkness of a forest The paleness of the illusions Then absorved my essence In the sepulchral forms of the forms We fall a sleep Envolved by the death A dark day left on my life My tears to it In the solitary caves, in the silent camps In the forgotten melancholic waves of the eternal sea In a dark day of the existency…
Submitted by The Void — Apr 25, 2025
Celestial dimensions to be reached I see abandoned, waiting… On your Quietness, rest the harmony A dead harmony, but who one day “Feels Life” When more distant I am More I can judge the celestial despair You are art of dreams that materialize By pale faces, make me feel myself Your words like a passion…That’s over And ever will be making To me The Ethereal Emptiness Above a live harmony, Who feels… Finally I see And meet them… Finally I see And meet them… Celestial Dimensions into silence
Submitted by Immortal — Apr 25, 2025
Deeply the sadness invades Standing out with himself the isolated His benevolence expresses the darkness The darkness of the forgotten souls His tunic suggests the depressive friendship The black, the black depressive friendship The invalidity of the decaying pleasure The beauty exhales the last contrast Brutal despairs hallucinates the extreme animation The furor of death is challenged by the existent And aloneside this desolated glory The ascension of the silence suddenly stands The inquietude dominates the impulse of the shadows “the shadows of the sad depressive tears” The ascention of the silence suddenly stands And aloneside this desolated glory… The shadows of the sad depressive tears… And aloneside this desolated glory… The ascention of the silence… The shadows of the sad depressive tears… The silence suddenly stands…
Submitted by Grave666 — Apr 25, 2025
So with indescribable impulsivity The sun has turned black And like a terrible dream Shakes all the firmament And on the earth makes heard the cry Bitterness and endless laments The glory is forgotten In front of so much disgrace and sores Monarchs of iniquity Master of usefulness Wounds of mankind Why these mysterious creatures hide? Alive to find you, alive to persecute you Full of a morbid hope, the disciples were condemned In front of thy black enchantment, I sit to cry Invisible magic In front the thy mortal look The tyrannical edge of second death The eternal fear of decaying soul We’re tongue disciples Tongues to manifest For the cold, for the night, we have me evoke The sacred names of old mysterious words My prayer, my song, is a hymn to intone Guardians of the spiritual plane Slaves in the imaginary abyssal line
Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 25, 2025
Opressed sadness in the eyes prison A agonizing manifestation Repressed feelings, emerged Rough happenings covers an atmosphere “That mix to depressive wishes” The discontentment open their wings Sheafs drags a grand voluptuousness The morbid voluptuousness of death Characterizes the lost feeling of life There are bridges leading to nothing There is the nothing waiting for the bruises Commotions forms layers of emotions Desolated emotions Like an only candle in the darkness The brutal darkness absorbs the hope Of a sentimental universe
Submitted by Cyberwaste — Apr 25, 2025
Cold…Pain…Hate…Clamour… Snow…Cutting…Mountains…Distance… Gray…Loneliness…Winter…Intensity… Golden…Balls…Turns…Into hymns… Monarch from the highest mountain Play the bells Between the eternal glaciers In the hierarch of the night’s solitudes In the mansion that levitate in the gray sky In the millennium nocturnal approximation Golden bells from the eternal cold “blow the wings that comes from faraway …Let the souls more close To the arrival of the great portal” “The moon claims the nights will be eternal Resisting by the lunar wings The nocturnay for wounded my eyes” “Levitation with the bells…Golden Bells from the Eternal Cold” (Snowstorm)
Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Apr 25, 2025
From Abyssinia to Egypt, nocturnal revenance Circle of copts around the fire star “Eumenides at the front on the way of the initiates The empire comes back to the light, immortality of the soul” Between the far towers, Vultures searching the deep graves of the desert Illuminated from wise, he has the knowledge key See the light shine on the cult of Isis Land that cries to it’s profanity I sung a hymn to the sunset In his court Osiris, just my shadow dares to appears Cold aspect pillars, splits the solar rays in the sky I see scalding horrors dancing in front of me And the nilo waters reflecting the stars On the hills of sand I split the nights and days Son of Horus takes the hovering star Anubis That hovers now over the towers If blessed celestial invaders of the crepuscule Atlanto-Ethiophs “of red skin” “Sam-Taouf personified in Hator, Solar god Mummified entities, I invades the lost tower and found my treasure By the modern man his tranquility was usurped I fight with the old Pharaos”
Submitted by Grave666 — Apr 25, 2025
To suffer in real dreams Setting up an insensatible ocular sensibility The bruises disperses on an obscure mantle Morbid figures close my frustration I exalt the suffering I carfy myself to the obscene fantasy Formed by the reticule immersed in blood Absorbs the lethargy which exceeds inside The transcedency of life turns complex Turned to the worshipness in the scrapping The dawn turns black in front of the history Perfect characters, afflicted convulse Indenominated creations sacrifice themselves Prophetised solemnity of the analogies Divine themselves by stagnant apathetic forms
Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Apr 25, 2025
Here encloses all passions Here are contained all the doubts In each corner corroded by the time Spirits suffers their pain Singing always the same Retrain of supplication and despair The suffering still not sultryed With the disruption of the fine deaths veil From a extreme to the other One by one sealthing Sweet to their blinded eyes Their dry throats and their mutilated Consciences by the pain Each parable sung in their horrible… Music, wants to unite to the Mold and filth of the secular walls Their tears aren’t consoled anymore And their pungent vests rots together Joined because they are solitarians And alone will remain
Submitted by Warbringer — Apr 25, 2025
This track is instrumental.