Liar Of Golgotha - Ghost Of The Ancient Siberian Wolfcult lyrics

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F'taghn collecting Itself from the ashes of men and

women, melting and sharing their heritage of the past.

It rose from the grey mists that deluged the barren

planes of the coldlands, It chose as Its silent

homestead.

From pure alien origin It once had been, feared and

hunted profusely by a race now removed from Its close

vicinity,

from this land's solemn existence, by a gentle stroke

of Its hand.

It was mastering the arts of this planet's

materialisation.

It alone was with many, who were but small parts of It

self.

F'taghn was the blessed name It carried, dating back

from beyond the vortex

of dimensions, from the grounds of the Elder lords.

On the top of the frozen hill It appeared in all Its

might,

clouded by the particles It had risen from, summoning

the ghosts from Its gasseous

body. Accompanied by the chanting choirs of tormented

ancient souls, the misty shapes that dwelled the

ground,

crystallised. F'taghn, Beast of a thousand souls,

ancient dweller of the Siberian

landscapes, feared by the lonely men sleeping

restlessly in Its domain.

Its four eyes watched the four horizons of the earth,

scanning for a prey to be fetched by the materialised

ghostly wolfclan. It remembered how he once recited the

forbidden

sentences, being bonded by the mortal human flesh, and

glanced upon the spiralled vortex in the dry desert

sands.

He knew then that his destiny lay on a different level

than that of his fellow human men and women.

And the moment the purple lightning struck his eyes and

burned his flesh he knew he was of the alien F'taghn,

reaper of

souls, scout of the Ancient Ones. It remembered how she

once played with the Dhogh-Nubilum Gem and fragmentated

into the sand she sat in, sailed on Sahara winds

towards the open spheres of the vortex of creation,

disappearing into the sentient thing called F'taghn

Yog, dogmatist of wolfclans, harvester of human souls

in barren wastes.

She was renewed and beyond all grasp.

It remembered how It joined with the souls It lured

into Its ritual bonding.

The owners of human memories embedded in Its vapour

flesh. And now they dwelled Siberia as wolves of light

and darkness,

optic illusions just as deadly as bullets from a gun,

obeying Its mind.