Sons Of Perdition все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

Pillar of flame, rise! Rise! God of no name, rise! Rise! Shadows burned into walls, rise! Rise! An end to it all, rise! Rise! Chaos returns. Rise! Rise! All lessons unlearned. Rise! Rise! Tabula rasa voids the sins of the Father. Rise! Rise! The heavens are gutted, the curtain thrown wide. The moon to the east, rise! Rise! The Magician unleashed, rise! Rise! All hope and all doom, rise! Rise! The dead from their tombs, rise! Rise! The Master takes to the throne, rise! Rise! Flesh is seared off the bone. Rise! Rise! A new King is crowned. Rise! Rise! The palace burns to the ground. Rise! Rise! The palimpsest scraped and made ready again.

When your spirit's surrendered and forsaken your flesh and you wander the earth with no comfort or rest, don't go searching for solace for you cannot be saved when your soul lies and festers in the mouth of the grave. Your words echo hollow in the dead veil of night. Your mouth dribbles honey while your heart vomits lies. There's no faith without action, or so some would say. Your insides grow soft as your spirit decays. Fall to your knees, for the grave's not the only door open to thee. Rise up from those waters and cast off those chains and ascend to the Kingdom or be engulfed in the flames. Remember what paved that grim road down to Hell. There ain't nothing the Devil can't buy or can't sell, so don't waste your breath on those promises so fair. When you've got no intention, it's Hell that you'll share. There you'll know of no mercy, you'll hear of no mirth, shackled in fire to the bowels of the earth. O you pitiful soul, the time now is nigh. Offer your deeds to that glory on high and fall to your knees for the grave's not the only door open to thee. Rise up from those waters and cast off those chains and ascend to the Kingdom where in glory He'll reign.

Angels of Heaven, fall! Fall! The Fool of eleven, fall! Fall! Plummeting devils, fall! Fall! Through the Kingdom’s nine levels, fall! Fall! Twenty-two is the crown that awaits on the ground. Fall! Fall! The Philosopher’s Stone shall hang flesh on the bones. Fall! Fall! He is become death, destroyer of worlds. Embers in air, fall! Fall! Smoldering hair, fall! Fall! Comets on fire, fall! Fall! The heavenly choir, fall! Fall! The cup runneth dry. Fall! Fall! The sun from the sky, fall! Fall! The stars impermanent, fall! Fall! God from His firmament, fall! Fall! The serpent encircles and swallows its tail.

Well I was cast out of Sacto and driven out east. In my darkest hour turned to crime. I was sentenced to jail, where I was beaten and starved. I was murdered time after time after time. Treat a man like a dog and that's what he'll become. He'll grovel today but soon his time will come. A man can be pushed, made to endure all pain, but one day like a noose, he'll reach his breaking strain. In an act of defense or defiance or rage, I savagely beat my cellmate. So they shackled my legs and threw me in a gang to clear an old graveyard and work off my hate. I felt like a beast, running hurt, blind and bleeding, knowing somewhere a cliff is ahead. The bossman would watch from the shade of a tree and drive me 'til I was near dead. The boss licked his chops and said, "Son, learn your place or I'll throw your bones down in the hole." Like a pot boiling over and snuffing out its fire, my rage burned as black as a coal. I'm no bossman's dog. My back won't stoop far. My home's not in heaven. I don't run from war. I say a man can be pushed but when there's nothing left at stake, sooner or later, he'll break. My eyes filled with blood so I picked up a bone and I cleaved his fat head clean in two. He fell into the dust as I spat on his face. "Brother, the same goes for you."

I made my way toward Show Low through a desert dry as bone. I grew sicker from my wounds as they festered in the burning sun. Consumed by pangs of hunger, I sought shelter in a cave while the poison in my blood snaked its way into my fevered brain. Blood unto wine, wine turns to piss. Flesh unto bread, bread turns to ash. Gold unto lead, lead into stone. Skin decays to dust, the grave becomes a throne. Without a dime or a bite of food, desperation turned to panic, so when a hunter found my den, he found a beast that had gone manic. I brained him with my rifle butt, then took my knife and slit. I dressed his body where it lay, then roasted it upon a spit.

One, two, three, four...
Am
Wade in the water...
G F Am
Wade in the water, children.
Am
Wade in the water...
G F Am

A secret space and moldy bones,
A wall where one shouldn't be.
There's a cricket hiding in my cellar,
Calling up to me.

A tarp and a trowel and a broken lamp,
The stench of eternity.
There's a dozen crickets in my cellar,

I took my rifle from down off its shelf (I'm not myself but I'm nobody else) and took to the woods to be by myself (I'm not myself but I'm nobody else). That moon is a Eucharist, stale and unleaven. Those stars all are maggots in the cold flesh of Heaven. And though they grow fatted on the blood of it all, they're destined to sicken and wither and fall. So I took that rifle from down off its shelf and took to the woods to be by myself

A sickly albino found a bleary old wino stumbling his way through the dump. So he called to his gang, who answered with chains, to give the old drunkard his lumps. He fell to his knees and begged "Spare me boys please, for once I was young just like thee. From duty I'd run for a fair bit of fun. You children remind me of me". "O you're not our brother," said one then the other of those moon-faced and misshapen boys. So they tied him to a tree and they clubbed both his knees and his sobs made a sad, weary noise, like "Ohhhhh...". He sang "Ohhhhh...". Then down in that glade, they took their cruel blades and they flayed his pink flesh into ribbons. Yet still their blood boiled, so they doused him oil and as he went up in flames, howled like gibbons. I preach holy gospel, so take this to heart: Life rushes toward death from the moment it starts.

See that girl weeping silent in her cold empty home? Watch her pretty flesh wither and drop from the bone. Now smell the tears of that boy as they paint his poor face. His heart stumbles and it falters with complete lack of grace. Hear the man cursing softly as he dies in his bed, in the clutches of the cancer that blooms in his head. And feel the soul of that lady get sucked through the gates, though her body treads onward down a path that she hates. Now taste the blood on the teeth of the only one you love. Well the preacher on Sunday like the farmer on Monday and the shepherd out some other day, know they ain't exempt. So don't waste time with your tears because it's worse than you fear, you gotta get right outta town before your own day gets here. Now sow those seeds in that ground that grows so fallow and cold. You know they'll never be found. I say they'll only grow mold, 'cause there ain't gonna be no big harvest this year. I tell you, time to settle debts, it is drawing so near.

Psalms For The Spiritually Dead-2010

1. Psalm Of Withering 03:02
2. Psalm Of Sand Creek 04:32
3. Psalm Of Nod 03:21
4. Psalm Of Retribution 04:09
5. Psalm Of Solitude 03:01
6. Psalm Of Hell 01:17

The Kingdom Is On Fire-2007

1. This Land Is Cursed 02:59
2. The Party 04:24
3. Anhelo 05:19
4. There Is A Judgement 03:10
5. Blood In The Valley 05:38
6. Burial At Sea 05:51

Louder and louder shook the black gates of Hell. I woke with a start, like a drunk in a cell. The chewing of wheels on the hot sandy ground came to a stop as my body was found. One must suffer from absolute blindness to freely pour the milk of human kindness. A malformed albino laid me in a seat. His face swelled with tumors, his skin like rank meat. He drove in silence as I lay in the back. Socorro was waiting down a long, dusty track. He fed me and clothed me and I slept for a day. I woke before dawn without much to say. My head started reeling and I felt cold and sick, so I found where he was sleeping and I beat him with a brick. I was hard up for cash so I looted his shack, stuffing my pockets as he wept on his back. My visions had shown me who I was to see: a healer named Maycomb out in Trinity.

The shadow of the undertaker creeps across your floor
Go lock up all your children and paint blood upon your door
These hills are filled with whispers of a man all dressed in black
With the toll of death's knell he comes from hell to drag some whoreson back
That old Bible speaks of angels doing service up to the Lord
The undertaker knows no master, he drinks from many cuphoard
Just as banshee's wails are warnings that someone that same day will die
The undertaker he states the same, I'll be goddamned if he tells a lie

Magicians, witches, crones and bitches.
Withered crops and skin that itches.
Pagan prayers howled at the moon.
The hour of their destruction looms.
Magicians, witches, crones and bitches.
They live not by our fair wishes.
Abhorrent gestures and ancient words, poison dram and bitter herbs.
Magicians, witches, crones and bitches,