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Kriegsmaschine - Szron / Kriegsmaschine lyrics



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06. Annihilate Prime Factor

Let these words be as sand in the cogwheels of reason
As a malign disturbance in the sustainment of universe
And let each quark of this degenerated microcosm
Stand as a citadel of cold and deliberate hatred
Let there come a glorious error in the patterns of the world
Let the tainted foundations of reality crumble
And let us hope nothing comes afterwards
So the gravest of mistakes we all blindly wander in
Will finally come to an end

Annihilate prime factor
Thrice deny divine restraint. Reject all things finite and infinite

Towards the tainted omega-pleroma, so perfect
In its warped beauty, it comes to burn the earth
And our hearts shall welcome the flames
With purest of joys
Haunted by the voices of living breathing cosmos
Isis! Cunt of pneuma, whence all floweth
Exceeding the capacity of pure abstraction
Digitized Logos, blistered into matter

07. E.

Boiling, malignant hatred safely hidden behind
An illusion of dumb, satiated face of a common mail.
Once planted, hungering, burning its host from inside,
Waiting to be unleashed
Constantly fed with the world, and beyond
Easily crossing the borders of the capacity of human mind

Coming

Straight through all the senses, a deep, long insight
Coming to humiliate, trample and eradicate what we thought will was
Mindrape. Soulfuck. Coming
Eradication. Coming
A baptism in stinking semen of the Father
From a putrid fruit of the Mother's womb
Enlightenment. Coming

08. The Fall, In All Its Glory

Covered in infant blood and angelic faeces
Stalking through the crumbling ruins of Basileia
A putrid, odious disturbance in perfect balance
Of the primal void
A blind, sickening malediction with only one urge
To relentlessly grow its warm, bubbling pulp of life
What insolence does it take to consciously reject
The Fall as the natural condition of Man?
A monument of abhorrent revelations
The brightest fire of the Devil burns dimly as it lives
And moves in those who know the Self as one
What a pityful spectacle, to witness the Finite
Cling to the supposed importance of their lives
And yet what a delight to Bestiae
The sparks of Infinity burning within the Disciples
Warm organic mud, degenerated descendants of Adam
Enslaved by futile self-preseving instinct
Faithfully bowing down to the crumbling illusion of hope
What disgusting, wormlike, humane pride
Does it take to reject a logical conclusion
Acknowledging the faint hope of Christ
While the Fall has already come
In all its glory