Pentacle - Prophet Of Perdition lyrics

rate me

Created before creation, the mother of all wars

Indicement against purity, the father of impiety

War-lusting spirits, embodied in flesh and soul

Marching through the gate of agony and trample down life's gift

A deity without a mortal form,

craving for insanity pure

A struggle within the soul,

consuming dignity as a whole

The roaring without sound

penetrates the void unknown

Possessing the sanctum of innocence,

riding the infernal winds

It's the bearer of seed of what is being called "war"

It's the voice without any sound

It's the thought which drives one insane

It's the hand which ends your reign

Now, you've reached the point

where no humanity is left

A servant of utmost extremities

is what you have become at last

The horrors of insanity

The acts of inhumanity

The bestial thoughts of a war-torn mind

The indifference of a destructive kind

Worshipping the realm of war and serving it with all your might

Through iron and lead you'll proclaim the word of terror and fright

Bearer of the Seed