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lirik lagu dysmorphic demiurge - carcass of the king

sic mundus creatus est
beyond the senses of the beholder, time is a myth
there is a time when, after having been wearied of fighting for centuries for a place at the table, a people will unite to stand as the embodiment of the thing of which they had always been falsely accused, rabid beasts

the end rushes towards you
to rip a vein so that blood can never re~enter
thе dead eye of vision and unconsciousnеss is fixed and unseeing
savagery reborn with predisposition to make a carcass of the king
some nightmares follow us out of our dreams into the ever~waning, waking world
the source of all light burns, slowly consuming its source
extinguished
the flame that once raged but is reduced to an ember may rest proud of all it once created and all it, at once, destroyed

as our ending deeds give meaning and savour to every act before it, so is our final death to all deaths that came before it
such tragic fiction gives false hope to those walking paths of righteousness until the very end when a final glimpse shows forth that all paths lead to the same end
and the tears drop red on the bleached bones of our enemies who only paused upon the h~~ry shore of mankind’s self~awareness
only falling from faith
breathing prayers that we trust will fly the constructs of this plane of existence and light before the very presence on the face of god

kneel for me and worship the essence inside me
entropy stands before you with open arms, and once root takes hold, causes the hands to, at first turn agonizingly slowly, and suddenly, exponentially faster on the clock of chaos
your only, ever~growing desire is to make a carcass of the king, defenestration

death is nothing more than the brief instant of deepest sleep where, immediately after closing your eyes, you awaken
man can not know how he transforms into other until after the order
there is no transubstantiation; only a true metamorphosis
but, by then, the only order of any consequence is chaos
kneel to me and tremble; he who awakens the apostles of degeneration and commands them to gather unto me souls of man
quake before me in awe; he who knows abaddon’s place and commands him to make a carcass of the king

kneel for me
worship the
essence inside of me
dividing wolves from sheep

kneel to me and tremble
source of all light burns
extinguished
sorrow reigns

there is much to dread

- lirik lagu dysmorphic demiurge

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