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PULSUS. Sailing the great dark cosmic sea of chaos.

from Grond by Nihill

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lyrics

I am waiting
Waiting for my mystical sister of old
She will give birth to 777 sons
Ready to raise this exceeding great army of protagonists
I shudder to think, this mystical circle forming
A vortex of incinerating electric deathwinds
Blowing through streets of old and cities anew
Nothing will hold them back, nothing will hold me back
To spit in your faces and cast down your industrial cathedrals
Exceeding boundaries put up by leaders and gods
The filth at my right hand and an army made for my left hand
A climax of anti-matter, the blood in our veins boiling
Embrace this prophetic moment
Come forth the four winds
And learn to whisper the secret word
Only spoken of in Christ's dungeon
No fenix shall rise, no days shall be multiplied
No sky to open up, no sun to shine, no rain to wash
Forming a solemn hunter to enter the microcosmos
Hellish pains pulsating within
No soothing words can be heard
Humiliate, desecrate
All control lost, no straws to be clutched
You will feel our wrath from beyond this open grave
Oh incinerating breath
Breathe upon these slain
That they may live and die again
Stand on your feet and be ready to be cut down
Their bones will construct our empire
An empire washed aflame
This breath of resurrection and rebirth blowing
Bodies dried out, no chance for any hope, all is lost at last
Enter me and let the vortex take hold of me
Let this injustice and corruption be done
Raising voices, battle of words inside the inwards
Dying trees and breaking spines
Smother dying flames and worthless lives
Spirits white as snow and entities darkest of dark
Breathe life into these human ashes
The may-dew collected by our mystical sister
Now falls in a blackened state
Mutus liber
Once mocked are these sons of fathers
Unworthy of vultures
Drained of the putrefacted elixir of life
Hunger of the soul
Driven into vast nocturnal deserts
Cast in the mire
Feeding on the roots of the tree of life and death
Residing in holes beneath the ground
We will open up your graves
Your bones are pierced in yourselves in this night season
Your sinews will take no rest
Lovers will be scattered and torn by the gusts of this storm

credits

from Grond, released October 13, 2009

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