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Rise to Heaven Like Smoke
In the early hours of morning, the priests gather at the altar of fire and sacrifice a baby lamb, in the pure state of innocence ripe for cruel mistreatment. They nail it to the ground through its ear, and then slit its throat into a goblet, which they pour in unequal amounts into the five fires that are the altar. There is a summoning of dark
spirits, and a blasphemy to JEHOVAH. Then they chant the prayer, in distempo, to the lords of CHAOS:
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Vomit upon the throne Of Enslaver the Weak For his illusion is fallen Regurgitate his Need Invoke Suffering We rule heaven now We have earth and sea We are Death your new love In rebellion. I hurt the ones Of holy descent With my spittle On my laugh I speak the names Of hierarchy With mockery Embittered tongue Usurp pantheos Usurp the body Rise hatred war Encompassing law Of inordinate Disorder Suffering Mockery of life I am death I am hate I am one of many As one in the fury Of battle lust |
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The priests absorb the ash of the fire through vision, and speak the prophecy of
the world. For it is dying, and it will come to us. For it is being killed, and we are the
agents of killing, not the initiators. We mock life because life is what invokes us; we are
only the agents ripe for destruction, as that is our relation to this world. The priests kick
the ashes into the wind, and life the transient palls.
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