Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song At the Vanguard of Deception, artist - Merrimack. Album song Omegaphilia, in the genre Date of issue: 08.06.2017
Record label: Season of Mist
Song language: English
At the Vanguard of Deception |
| The mourning I wear is not mine |
| It belongs to cords made of shadows and melted flesh |
| This mourning I wear is not mine |
| It belongs to this rotten shell |
| Where light dwells blood jars and gaunt masks |
| In a yelling void |
| That bounds me to the soil of a corrupted race |
| Leading to paths of bites |
| Channeling me to infected waters |
| Abused by the gutter of the world |
| Where our flame, cast in flesh |
| Is nothing but a nail stuck in filth |
| The mourning I wear is not mine… |
| But a pigsty where brews my dated passion |
| For the old satanic archetype |
| Virgin thoughts as candles blown by winds of an autistic curse… |
| There’s nothing at the core but remains of a mocked divinity |
| An ὑποκείμενον wearing the face of the abused child of God |
| Collecting his toys amongst broken seals of Nag Hammadi |
| Oh, Satan, is there a place to rest against thy breast? |
| Corrode my lungs and seal my rusted eyelids |
| Our souls, metastasis made of igneous materials |
| Are starving for starvation |
| I consume everything I touch, a vagrant time-lapse lives in my mouth |
| Someday I’ll find that my whole childhood was the dream of a pedophile |
| My belly secretes a living manure, some AIDS-faced abomination |
| Able to turn back time and sterilize my mother’s nest |
| Time’s poisoning the idea of being |
| Cosmos is the reverse of creation |
| All is fucked, nothing can grow |
| Each second cancels a century |
| Standing at the vanguard of deception |
| As a fanatic of my own destruction, I’ve reach the suburbs of devastation, |
| of devestalisation |
| Praying for the pain to leave, this pain of being here and now, reduced to this |
| collage of infected cells, spreading diseases, greedy symmetry |
| You have wept into your little plot of void, molesting the probability of your |
| existence |
| Experiences of self-injury and self-desecration fattens your experience of God |
| Now you can see its obscene face, chrome face, behind the veil of matter |
| Replacing the whole sky |
| Testing the shooting room |
| In Pavore Dormiam, et caro mea requiescet in polluto |
| Domine, quis resquiescet in abysso sancto tuo |