2006.11.31.Cradle Of FilthPetőfi Csarnokwww.petoficsarnok.hu
2006.12.01MIGHTY MONICsepel; Pagoda
1. MoonshieldTired of dull ages, I walk the same ground,collecting the tragedies stillHollow ambitions in a hollow mindcarried my cross to the hillAnd how I lust for the dance and the firedeep of the nectarine sunset to drinkspill me the wind and its fireto steal of the colors - I'm the moonshieldShattered hope became my guideand grief and pain my friendsa brother pact in a blood-ink penneddeclare my silent endNaked an dying under worlds of silent stonereaching for the moonshield that once upon us shone2. The Jester's Dance[instrumental]3. Artifacts Of The Black RainStood there leaning to the city moon,casting silhouettes tall to grip her white roomsthe black-clad voyeur in his black-clad masquein the serpentine sun of tragedy baskedStood there cursing at the soul-dead masswith their fabled illusions, the vain dreams that passedsplinters of a life rushing by in the whirlalone, silent warrior in a fantasy worldHe cried for night / but night could not comeso, swept in the shroud of misanthropia he went awayand fed the empty gallerieswith the artifacts of the black rainsunken into the shadows with a dry, sardonic smileHe made the footprints a part of his heartto rouse a sacred confrontationStood there carving on the monument to liesdigging of the Earth, making friends with the soilas the all-mother rises and bares her bleeding thighshe disappears into her cold, icy womb4. GravelandMankind - proud conqueror and kingswings its flag of primal glory to the windsTitans of the power-myth that failedNeanderthal hunger for the flesh of war so frailSo weak, so hollow-mindedthe primat flock respondsthe jester race submitsFor each day of war is a failure for man,enslaved in her mordial genesIllusions bleed from their fetid cores,bent to their rotten extremesWe, the plague of Terra Firma,nature's grand and last mistakeplant the poisoned seed of cancer,set the severed fruits awakeBurning like frozen relicsin god's archaic gravelandBurn the visionaireKill the ideaologiesMankind must dieThe doves and the angels return to their graveswith flames on their pestilent wingswhile mushroom-clouds haunt their virginwhite skiesto rape their utopian dreamsLiving the last days of evolution's endfrom the nest of humanity, the graveland vultures rend5. Lord HypnosI lie in your soother arms, lord Hypnosyour garmet alive with your songI lie in your soother arms, lord HypnosSteep the spiral to your far abode,in the wake of slumber, on visions I rodeand fell like history through the chasm of agesinto the charged, forbidden zonesHow I have searchedthrough a million worlds and facesyet unaware, I have not foundmy own true face, traceless and profoundSo, find me in these grandiose hallswhere long ago summers eternally falland tune the strings of truthful longingto the frozen music of godsHypnagonia's lucid horizonsplay with the yearning I've quelledas I strike towrads the Pantheonand what therein is held6. Dead EternityI bid you welcome to my worldThey call me existenceYou have just entered through the gateto your journey towards eternityThis part I controlIn the beginning you'll fear nothingAs I climb beside youTime will be your master in this laborious part ofhuman subsistenceThis part I controlBlack clouds embraces your soulSlowly passing through repeating lacunas of anguishWhen time takes your lifeI wil transfer you into the bare grip of thinking tranquillityVoices frilling the emptiness of the dead floatingSeamless across the surface into chilling stillnessNothing can help you nowYou'll never be along againYou'll never die againYou'll never be born againYou'll forever be, stuck here in eternity7. The Jester RaceRush faster on the one-way lanethe answers so silentRusty gods in their machine-minds armoursgrind our souls in the millstone of timethe "deathbed harvest" is dead man's banquetof mould ridden bread and black, poisoned wineAnd we go..our steps so silentAnd we go..our blooded trace;The Jester RaceCalling our to the gathered masses;their answers so silentAnd we go..Embracing the tools of the neo-wolf agethat speak of silence and silence aloneOffering the tokens, the reliced idolsto the heirs of the newly raped groundinferior even to the transparent windslesser in motion and soundAnd we go..There is no trace of mein their altered blueprints of lifeGaia impaled on their horns and lancesto fumes from her body give caseas the throng of blind mind savour the scent,dream-dead from prosaic and hateSunwind strokes the electroheart,ignition roars through the corridors,stream launching the binary vesselsVanities in extreme formationsride into tormorrow's rigid futile scriptsof our dying jester race8. December FlowerTowards the rich archaic heavens; towards the lack dioramayou are the artist and the texturethat plays with the mantle of the EarthWhen the bleakest of powderslie rooted to the starched stonesand roots that feed the peaking treesembrace the sleeping shoresArchaic pearls of sleep and deaththe voice of December losing its breathand the floweryard of whit and grey is hauntedWhite as the down of flaking snow,the heroic emblems of lifeGreen is the color of my deathas the winter-guise I swoop towards teh groundGreen is the landscape of my sorrowfilled passingWe are In Flames,towards the dead archaic heavensWe are the mantle and the texturethe alters the mantle of the Earth9. Wayfaerer[instrumental]10. Dead God In MeTo slit the grinning woundsfrom childhood's seven moonsthe palette stained with the ejaculated passions(of forbidden, hedonistic colors...)Strike from omnipotence; all-seer, all-deemerand haunt my severed country with yourdripping, secret gamesYou pick the unripe liliesdeflored and peeled the bleeding petalsmade known to methe grainy stains, the crimson lotusof the Black-Ash Inheritance,the semen feed of gods and mastersThe worms still in me,still a part of me,racing out from leaking rooms,swoop from broken lungs to block the transmissionto put an end to the nomad yearsFatheryou are thedead god in me