Antipope: Razorwire

(M.M 2005)

The Skies thunder by the Seraphic war
The Chaos bred the illusion, world as ordered delusion
As I hunt down my kin
Arch-angels bereft of sin
I was doomed to fall like leaves
Dead, on Autumnal breeze

Decenturies freeze
Time in my eyes cease
Like picture long dead
Cold passion lost in a marital bed

The smoke of the world burning
The scent of corpse piles smoldering
Is all that is left
Amidst the ruins where our love eternal was wed

The evil and mourn accomplish the 7th day

I lost her from my sight
Too focused for the kill
Like Romeo with a gun pointed to his lovers heart
Awake still my heart it slumbered
Yet the cruel morning came with her tears like a death-stain

I fed the flames, conflagration begins

My words echoed in sirens of the Blitzkrieg
And fathered thousand promises undone
Ended up feeding the Lord of the Flies

And never were my lips too far
From the blessed cheek of Christ
I made sure there was chance for change
But the greed made sure faith did not prevail

With necromantic old-school blood-lust passion
I hailed the night and waged inverted crusade
Believers I mislead down the road of desperation
While the most mislead in the game of Fates was I

But still beside, holding banner high
Pacing like coming storm was my pride

Teach them like kiss of Fire
That scared the heart like tattoo
Too horrific to remove
The pain it hides
Be the divine knife
That cut the sight of these eyes
Too many a times
Turned inside

The moonlit paths I pace with thee
Among the dead shepherds sheep
Our dance shall be the last ceremony
The rite to soothe me, to put me in endless sleep

Destinies swirl
Flag of Misanthropy unfurl
The carnival angels no longer hide
From heaven’s soon blinded sight

But to be born as one
Is to die as few
Thousand more lives depart
With each love that tears us apart
To carry heart-shaped hollow within
And lick it like razor-wire Sin

To burn the love on pyres within

I lost her in my sight
Too focused for the kill
Like Romeo with a gun pointed to his lovers heart
I never learned to swallow my rage
The pierced throat too swollen with pain

The hungry winds I hear them rise
To greet Virtue in crimson, the lust for the Vice
The ashen kingdom is unslavery’s price
With kiss I close the eyes that witnessed flames heaven high

Of the pyre that burns love within
And soothe the wounds with a razor-wire kiss