| Bedight, this pre-aestival
|
| Festival drew darkly near
|
| And our delight at its arrival
|
| Was a roar to rival loosed Fenrir
|
| Let the Hellish celebrations begin
|
| Ragnarok is rolling, magma abrim
|
| The blackest mass the Brocken has ever seen
|
| Invoking Loki, smoking the red weed
|
| We listen to the Glorification
|
| Of Chernobog in a fog of elation
|
| Denial is the vilest form of blasphemy
|
| Standing on the cliffs that kiss burning winds
|
| We are risen together
|
| Brazen, exalting, a hiss of triumph rings
|
| I am yours
|
| …Yours immortally
|
| Tonight the rites are right for raising spirits on
|
| The Devil’s Pulpit, The Witches Altar
|
| The dead will dance macabre
|
| To Chaos Magick psalters
|
| A heavy thunder shadowing lightning
|
| Forged for Judgement Day
|
| Announces greater wonder, citing
|
| Heralds on the starry way
|
| And I held you like St Vitus
|
| As the Sabbat leapt to play
|
| Before the fever swelled to bite us
|
| And we were swept to waylay
|
| May Day
|
| Standing on the cliffs that kiss burning winds
|
| We are risen together
|
| Brazen, exalting, a hiss of triumph rings
|
| I am yours
|
| …Yours immortally
|
| Only those tortured
|
| Could profess such festive scenes
|
| And melodies
|
| Of raucous wrought debauchery
|
| No arthritic, sullen Goya
|
| For this fresh Walpurgis Eve
|
| Our flesh it breathes
|
| Full of fantastic symphonies
|
| Witness the fires reflected in infernal eyes
|
| That blaze, alive
|
| Eternal ties
|
| Have trussed amazing lusts together
|
| Procession, banquet, black mass, orgy
|
| If our world were to cease right now
|
| In the midst of this
|
| Wide naked bliss, these stated sacred vows
|
| I would break the universe in two
|
| Just to side with you
|
| To face the jealous heavens down
|
| Excite the terse miscarriage
|
| Of first light that thirsts to slay
|
| This night versed with the marriage
|
| Of you and I
|
| And all who dare to stray |