Grape of the vine

Condemned, thirsting, drenched in filth
Are not our souls broken and stained?
Withstanding a veiled separation
Unaware of the constant change
Must not we crush this glass with our teeth
And drink from wells filled with rotten fluid?
We are but ruins here, all aligning to be forgotten!
Ever staring at the stars
Knowing they died ages ago
Their fading light upon the crocked path
With none to left follow, none left to bear the shame

The desires of this world thrown into nothingness
And we pass to places of power
At the graveyards, at crossroads of transition
The torch of hekate, the dreary moon's light!

None left to follow, none left to bear the shame

Even in a sleeping state this anathema exhausts
As we reach out for death with hungering hearts
Entreating our shadows to cure this unquenchable thirst
In desolate ruins, in secluded temples
We are born anew in every heartbeat!

In dark places
Hours and hours of the utmost despair
We give up who we were and what we are
Enduring the cost for saturnine gnosis
Angel and torch-bearer!
Let me drink deep from the well of nothingness!
In dark places
In broken traces
Whatever was hidden becomes clear
Venite Lucifer!