LOADING DATA
Awe
# | Discography | Type | Year | |
---|---|---|---|---|
1 | Moerae | Split | 2015 | Show album |
2 | Providentia | Full-length | 2015 | Show album |
Moerae
Album versions
Release date | Label | Catalog ID | Format | Description |
---|---|---|---|---|
March 17th, 2015 | III Damnation Productions | Digital | ||
June 3rd, 2015 | III Damnation Productions | Curse 019 | 2 12" vinyls | Limited edition |
June 3rd, 2015 | III Damnation Productions | Curse 019 | 2 12" vinyls | Deluxe edition |
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
End | |
Draenzarth | Guitars, Bass, Synths, Vocals |
Maelstrom | Drums |
Aaron Carey | Vocals |
Vacantfield | |
Edrha | Effects, Vocals (backing) |
Draenzarth | Bass |
MXT | Guitars, Synths, Effects |
Maelstrom | Drums |
Domu | Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
V. Santura | Mastering (complete) |
Draenzarth | Layout |
Andrew D’Cagna | Recording (vocals) |
John T. | Recording (drums), mixing |
Vamon VII | Artwork |
Tom Kvålsvoll | Mixing |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Awe - Clotho | 17:00 | Show lyrics |
(Act One: Κnow Her) - The Phenomenon Robed in white, whom Erebus begot on Night Laugh at Her, make Her drunk Saving oneself, salvation needs the Omega The puppeteer asks for Her to play … no one moves the feet of Fates The woven hands Are named … how fool a god can be The Fates being adorned by Thee … darkness enlighten the skies and She Confront this view, it will always be Triple fold Her voice unfold Listen listen listen and be Of all the fools, who’s spread upon thee? With love or hate, no god command thee Of all the wise, who’s spread upon thee? With love or hate, men command thee Virgin, mysterious, would loved to be a whore Beautiful, moonfaced, paled She was born Maria, Mania, Lamia The children of Them recall The prophets protest and lo! Love them, feed them, love them, feed them… The children of Her adore A prophet wasn’t before Hate him, kill him, hate him, kill him… (Act Two: Praise Her) - The Noumenon Hymn to Thee: Aporia il e denblaha Aporia sah e denblama Mas en vuj otrio vastenm Mas en iftehn lodriann shir Cktenddet vorsimen! Cktenddet vorsimen! Cktenddet vorsimen al! Cktenddet vorsimen peg al! One is Her nature, of three Her disguise Three is Her nature, one Her disguise Salvation meets the Omega Praising upon in bowing scene With heart detached, self surrendering Rays of neon lights repelled Accustomed Oneiros before Her hair The age of youth it’s old so old Para-morphosis exposed The age is old so old to cry Thus smiles upon where She dies Meta-morphosis denotes Momentum three times evoked Losing it, finding it, losing it again Salvation removes the Omega Hymn to Thee: Aporia il e denblaha Aporia sah e denblama Mas en vuj otrio vastenm Mas en iftehn lodriann shir Cktenddet vorsimen! Cktenddet vorsimen! Cktenddet vorsimen al! Cktenddet vorsimen peg al! (Act Three: Kill Her) – The Existenz … Alas! Is no more Thou art! Her dream of knot Thou art! Her act of stop Thou art! Her flesh is not Thou art! Her horror dome Thou art thrice better and She is three alone Thou art before the rope … Her crave is no more For what was always I A Fate to adore The Fate of mine Her promise is no more For what is breathing … dying A promise to adore The Fate of mine Her beauty is no more For what is attracting … lying A beauty to adore The Fate of mine Her fate is no more No more Her fate dying What I used to adore Have the voice of mine Perfect endless observances Rays upon the bloody Throne Beautiful, cynical, rewarding Her humble smile Aesthetically, asthmatic, gorgeous Her death in processes divide (Act Not: Epigios) – The Irreversible Predominance A sacred spring forced Her to my spine Once being not, I was not made to be Shapeless flames forming fire My spine becomes volcano Lava erupts! (Act Not: Apogios) - On Nature Listen, and I will instruct thee—and thou, when thou hearest, shalt ponder— What are the sole two paths of research that are open to thinking. One path is: That Being doth be, and Non-Being is not: This is the way of Conviction, for Truth follows hard in her footsteps. Th’ other path is: That Being is not, and Non-Being must be; This one, I tell thee in truth, is an all-incredible pathway. For thou never canst know what is not (for none can conceive it) Nor canst thou give it expression, for one thing are Thinking and Being. ...And to me ‘tis indifferent Whence I begin, for thither again thou shalt find me returning. |
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2. | Vacantfield - Lachesis | 16:57 | Show lyrics |
Κῆρες γὰρ αἱ θανατηφόροι μοῖραι. What necessity brought me these Those linear species of human deeds, What knuckle dreams those vermin’s dream In obscene chords that lie beneath? Shall I measure the thread of life With my spinal rod? Shall I bless you with plague? And at equal intervals In each of the thrones, Shall I bless you with words That you’ll envy their meaning? It begins another season That end will be death. Would you not choose the daemon, Drawn first? Virtue is not dominated The contempt will show... Harvester risen Lachesis risen Universe is the shaft Harvester risen Lachesis risen The reason is corrupted, World without end World without end Chaos craft In the first glowing light Logos provoked this madness This temple of sodom in collateral needs Past present and future flow As soil aerated, For fire came breathing Chronos Thousand sparks stride among you And bear the thought, Of life’s uncertain decree For her words, Snare she shuns Of those with humble harmonies Spin again and again The weft is large, And bliss for fortune dreamers? It looked so dim and dull And the cracked muse, Stares till set of sun When dawns the light uncertain... Matchless Design Revealed will be, And I shall answer... The lanterns... Those valorous puppets... "Like dust of stars show no more" A cynic piece In a rotten needle Lachesis risen |
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3. | End - Atropos | 16:33 | Show lyrics |
Eternally swirls the thread
Growing and weaving Cutting and killing Anaplasia of all energy Genesis till cremation That spawns through chaos And the copulation of Nyx When time takes shape And reaches human grounds The thread takes form and coils In the worm womb of creation Flirting with danger Flirting with collapse And the razors of transition The hub pushes with all power The continuum of life unfolds And passes the thread To where it must go Process, formation, demiurge And here you lay before the earth Invoked to live a life till death Never asking why Staring at the sandglass till you die Corruption By the worn will By the tainted living By the torn souls And the wasted minds No gift should be abused This thin spine of cloth needs to be cut Latter end By the time that ends And the melting flesh Deprive what is given The peak of fear The undesirable Softens your subconscious With the sharp pain of loss And the wasted time No longer can be used This thin spine of cloth needs to be cut Suddenly, she appears And sharp is she Like the teeth of the round serpent Divine She cuts the thread of life Riveting and unexpected... Tidal screams In a moment Time becomes a moment In instant delirium And as all chains rattle To enslave the sun To illuminate the spirit They call you death And i call you Atropos The beginning Between the scissors The sharp teeth and the tail Souls she unbind Empress Between the scissors The share is always fair Daughter of night Ruler They call you death And i call you Atropos The beginning |
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50:30 |
Providentia
Album versions
Release date | Label | Catalog ID | Format | Description |
---|---|---|---|---|
November 13th, 2015 | Pulverised Records | ASH 127 CD | CD | |
November 13th, 2015 | Pulverised Records | Digital | Bandcamp | |
February 15th, 2016 | Pulverised Records | ASH 127 LP | 2 12" vinyls | Limited edition |
June 1st, 2016 | Katoptron IX Records | KR006 | Cassette | Limited edition |
February 20th, 2017 | Only Vinyl Is Real | OVIR045LP / ASH127LP | 2 12" vinyls | Limited Edition, White Vinyl |
Members | |
---|---|
Miscellaneous staff | |
Konstantinos Psichas | Cover art |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Actus Primus | 20:00 | Show lyrics |
t’s at the most crucial moment when answers to great questions need not be debated, but acted. Should a golem that discovers its own nature end itself in despair, or re-assume its role in resignation? We now see, the virtuous ape attempting to adopt the role of the Creator. But what good of is God deprived of omnipotence and immortality? How confident is a supreme Judge, looking through a lens of myopia? To embrace Chaos and feed out of doubt... The curse which is placed upon humanity, is rather not the wrong at its heart, But the prisons imposed by causality, the deception of autonomy, The despair of inadequacy. Incurvatus in se. Woe to you, strayed sheep! Still directionless in spite of your consummations. For it is not the ultimate void which is the most monstrous of destinies, but a small light… That is yourself, surrounded by a universe of darkest malice, By shadows, shadows of ignorance, the so called eventuality, The fear of transfiguration, a nescient creature tearing its own flesh. What is the true essence of human desire, but a hopeless conflict with the inescapable? A consciousness that has so gracefully elevated from dust to spirit, should accept no reconciliation, But voraciously consume what only deserves to be experienced, not fathomed or figured. For the young soul, fixated through illuminating ordeals on Ideals of Absoluteness An inquisitive gaze unmasks all mortal affirmations as vulgar delusion, dreadful impartiality. Am I expected to ascend on rotten steps? Curse to whom had conceived the Notion of Truth! The greatest deceptor of common man, an inviting light from beyond eternity For others to seek for in despair. Still, despicably so, by swimming in the filth. “What we cannot speak of, we must pass over in silence." A circle of Magi perched upon Gaia’s summit. Those in front, are slowly shrinking into nothingness Below, drenched in blood their castrated limbs lie. Others, walking madly with carved out eyes, Or laying still with a stare of arid comfort. Bent over for Divine Grace. "Shall you join us?" "Through Awe I can shape the reality of others, but who will be the agent of mine?" In the abode of the humble, no hungry soul should abide. For small, timid striders, there is no resting place but underneath the eternal sand’s embrace. And in-between humanity, there is nothing else certain but eternal strife Of the meekly, against the courageous, of the simple, against the perplexed. Defiance and Retribution. |
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2. | Actus Secundus | 16:34 | Show lyrics |
Deep within the corridors of existence, hides a sleeping Beast Transmuting seemingly harmless fire, into sickly sadistic Blight. How can I control a thought which transpires from another? A cruel, unwanted procession. Wandering aimlessly, without ardor. How is not the outward reality but a theatre of shadows? The entourage of subordinancy is feigned indifference When the blind are rewarded for averting their eyes, the impotent for chastity, A place amongst Heaven is a drop of piss, in an ocean of wine. O self-looker, be enamored with the most adamant of courage You descend in the Land where nothing stands, but twists and curls. By my own will I shall grab Ariadne’s thread and unweave it, Even to the utmost, sunless abysses should it lead me. Do we truly see inside the tangling of the threads, or simply associate one end with another... Am I Mine, or am I a multitude of Others? Come suffering, horror, ridicule and derision! I adore your righteous nails, plunging the soul like surgical blades Cutting a way through opulent, caressing fabrics In nakedness to leave, inviting and enigmatic. Hungry eyes, burning glares upon my mirage of disgrace, Of a beast with many faces, banished into convenient obscurity My Makers, I bow for you in arrogant gratitude As I tear down your entrails, quenchless parasites I will never succumb into ignorant, finite pleasures of resignation, of fated condemnation! Give me instead a thousand eternal torments of Prometheus, the futile anticipation of Sisyphus, For I seek the Only Light, the guidance towards the Above. As mind is flesh and flesh is earthly, the path towards ascension is like the diagonal course of an arrow, piercing through parchment, leaving its trace on it like the supreme reveals itself upon the mundane, cryptically and partially. Shrouded in mystery, grasped by intuition. Unproven, shunned and solitary. Let me rejoice at this wondrous moment when your agony turns into sadistic laughter, For "madness", the renouncement of linearity is but a passage. No ambition is there in symphony, no fervor in static. To be awakened from the sleep of servitude, one must self-induce the greatest of indignities, vilest of maladies, to be written-off from God’s little plan of semi-conscious cogwheels in the game of deathly transformation. Contra Natura, the beginning of freedom. As my flesh is carved, bent and reshaped, I look and see through the particles of matter Space and time unravel in complexities immense, multifarious yet, still resisting to interpretation. Oh Revelation supreme! Great Promise, Vision of splendor! You urge me to pursue you in depths of existence untrodden In cosmic impiety, in adversary with all of Being itself! |
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3. | Actus Purus | 14:55 | Show lyrics |
All life is burdened with the curse of finality, The pitch black mountain which roses above every gust of hope. Was this Your secret present to the bearers of consciousness? To watch them in agony as you withdrew to the depths of darkness. Confronted with the insanity of discontinuity Man has long resolved to understanding you As a deathbed analgesic, a past time delinquency Yet, their masks of wax are always stricken with terror. And still You rule with an iron fist. Without will, consciousness, agency. Assimilating, transfiguring, annihilating. You puny, smallest «God». I have reached the Gate of Pleroma And I am knocking to deaf ears. No lamb or serpent awaiting to embrace me The air is choking with a lifeless silence, that of solitude. O Providentia! How I wish that you would strip me off memory So that I may stride in you as a child, back to the lands of old. For this is a deceiving journey into Nothingness In which everything that you see, is what you carry with you. Will not the refolding of everything that has ever unfolded eventually reach back to the primordial, one Source? Therefore, if singularity can self-manifest, a precedence should exist even for the unprecedented. As I feel the last of the human essence slip through I remember from a single seed you have once created everything. This, thy all common gift to your children Is the Sanctuary I will defile and enter My final blasphemy. When there is no beginning, there can be no end. All Creation then I shall hunt throughout the galaxy. And as for the end of everything, it shall take place within Me In union Despotic and Profane. In Stasis. Rise up then, my blackened Wings, lift my flesh of coal and thorns Take me to every light in the galaxy, so I may darken it. Burn then, my scepter, with my Hate and Hunger, So that I may consume the heart of the innocent. I am now ALL. I am now ONE. And at last I see the only, true darkness. Nothing. Τίποτα. Silence. Stasis. The loudest cry. The grandest laugh. The cruelest joke. Everything was predestined. All of this had happened before and will happen again. Recoil. Once again, throughout the purposeless eternity. As I tear my flesh free, in my last second, I understand. I am now the Womb, the Mother. The Creator. Recoiling. Eternally. |
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51:29 |
Moerae
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
End | |
Draenzarth | Guitars, Bass, Synths, Vocals |
Maelstrom | Drums |
Aaron Carey | Vocals |
Vacantfield | |
Edrha | Effects, Vocals (backing) |
Draenzarth | Bass |
MXT | Guitars, Synths, Effects |
Maelstrom | Drums |
Domu | Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
V. Santura | Mastering (complete) |
Draenzarth | Layout |
Andrew D’Cagna | Recording (vocals) |
John T. | Recording (drums), mixing |
Vamon VII | Artwork |
Tom Kvålsvoll | Mixing |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Awe - Clotho | 17:00 | Show lyrics |
(Act One: Κnow Her) - The Phenomenon Robed in white, whom Erebus begot on Night Laugh at Her, make Her drunk Saving oneself, salvation needs the Omega The puppeteer asks for Her to play … no one moves the feet of Fates The woven hands Are named … how fool a god can be The Fates being adorned by Thee … darkness enlighten the skies and She Confront this view, it will always be Triple fold Her voice unfold Listen listen listen and be Of all the fools, who’s spread upon thee? With love or hate, no god command thee Of all the wise, who’s spread upon thee? With love or hate, men command thee Virgin, mysterious, would loved to be a whore Beautiful, moonfaced, paled She was born Maria, Mania, Lamia The children of Them recall The prophets protest and lo! Love them, feed them, love them, feed them… The children of Her adore A prophet wasn’t before Hate him, kill him, hate him, kill him… (Act Two: Praise Her) - The Noumenon Hymn to Thee: Aporia il e denblaha Aporia sah e denblama Mas en vuj otrio vastenm Mas en iftehn lodriann shir Cktenddet vorsimen! Cktenddet vorsimen! Cktenddet vorsimen al! Cktenddet vorsimen peg al! One is Her nature, of three Her disguise Three is Her nature, one Her disguise Salvation meets the Omega Praising upon in bowing scene With heart detached, self surrendering Rays of neon lights repelled Accustomed Oneiros before Her hair The age of youth it’s old so old Para-morphosis exposed The age is old so old to cry Thus smiles upon where She dies Meta-morphosis denotes Momentum three times evoked Losing it, finding it, losing it again Salvation removes the Omega Hymn to Thee: Aporia il e denblaha Aporia sah e denblama Mas en vuj otrio vastenm Mas en iftehn lodriann shir Cktenddet vorsimen! Cktenddet vorsimen! Cktenddet vorsimen al! Cktenddet vorsimen peg al! (Act Three: Kill Her) – The Existenz … Alas! Is no more Thou art! Her dream of knot Thou art! Her act of stop Thou art! Her flesh is not Thou art! Her horror dome Thou art thrice better and She is three alone Thou art before the rope … Her crave is no more For what was always I A Fate to adore The Fate of mine Her promise is no more For what is breathing … dying A promise to adore The Fate of mine Her beauty is no more For what is attracting … lying A beauty to adore The Fate of mine Her fate is no more No more Her fate dying What I used to adore Have the voice of mine Perfect endless observances Rays upon the bloody Throne Beautiful, cynical, rewarding Her humble smile Aesthetically, asthmatic, gorgeous Her death in processes divide (Act Not: Epigios) – The Irreversible Predominance A sacred spring forced Her to my spine Once being not, I was not made to be Shapeless flames forming fire My spine becomes volcano Lava erupts! (Act Not: Apogios) - On Nature Listen, and I will instruct thee—and thou, when thou hearest, shalt ponder— What are the sole two paths of research that are open to thinking. One path is: That Being doth be, and Non-Being is not: This is the way of Conviction, for Truth follows hard in her footsteps. Th’ other path is: That Being is not, and Non-Being must be; This one, I tell thee in truth, is an all-incredible pathway. For thou never canst know what is not (for none can conceive it) Nor canst thou give it expression, for one thing are Thinking and Being. ...And to me ‘tis indifferent Whence I begin, for thither again thou shalt find me returning. |
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2. | Vacantfield - Lachesis | 16:57 | Show lyrics |
Κῆρες γὰρ αἱ θανατηφόροι μοῖραι. What necessity brought me these Those linear species of human deeds, What knuckle dreams those vermin’s dream In obscene chords that lie beneath? Shall I measure the thread of life With my spinal rod? Shall I bless you with plague? And at equal intervals In each of the thrones, Shall I bless you with words That you’ll envy their meaning? It begins another season That end will be death. Would you not choose the daemon, Drawn first? Virtue is not dominated The contempt will show... Harvester risen Lachesis risen Universe is the shaft Harvester risen Lachesis risen The reason is corrupted, World without end World without end Chaos craft In the first glowing light Logos provoked this madness This temple of sodom in collateral needs Past present and future flow As soil aerated, For fire came breathing Chronos Thousand sparks stride among you And bear the thought, Of life’s uncertain decree For her words, Snare she shuns Of those with humble harmonies Spin again and again The weft is large, And bliss for fortune dreamers? It looked so dim and dull And the cracked muse, Stares till set of sun When dawns the light uncertain... Matchless Design Revealed will be, And I shall answer... The lanterns... Those valorous puppets... "Like dust of stars show no more" A cynic piece In a rotten needle Lachesis risen |
|||
3. | End - Atropos | 16:33 | Show lyrics |
Eternally swirls the thread
Growing and weaving Cutting and killing Anaplasia of all energy Genesis till cremation That spawns through chaos And the copulation of Nyx When time takes shape And reaches human grounds The thread takes form and coils In the worm womb of creation Flirting with danger Flirting with collapse And the razors of transition The hub pushes with all power The continuum of life unfolds And passes the thread To where it must go Process, formation, demiurge And here you lay before the earth Invoked to live a life till death Never asking why Staring at the sandglass till you die Corruption By the worn will By the tainted living By the torn souls And the wasted minds No gift should be abused This thin spine of cloth needs to be cut Latter end By the time that ends And the melting flesh Deprive what is given The peak of fear The undesirable Softens your subconscious With the sharp pain of loss And the wasted time No longer can be used This thin spine of cloth needs to be cut Suddenly, she appears And sharp is she Like the teeth of the round serpent Divine She cuts the thread of life Riveting and unexpected... Tidal screams In a moment Time becomes a moment In instant delirium And as all chains rattle To enslave the sun To illuminate the spirit They call you death And i call you Atropos The beginning Between the scissors The sharp teeth and the tail Souls she unbind Empress Between the scissors The share is always fair Daughter of night Ruler They call you death And i call you Atropos The beginning |
|||
50:30 |
Moerae
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
End | |
Draenzarth | Guitars, Bass, Synths, Vocals |
Maelstrom | Drums |
Aaron Carey | Vocals |
Vacantfield | |
Domu | Vocals |
Edrha | Effects, Vocals (backing) |
Draenzarth | Bass |
MXT | Guitars, Synths, Effects |
Maelstrom | Drums |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Vamon VII | Artwork |
V. Santura | Mastering (complete) |
Draenzarth | Layout |
Andrew D’Cagna | Recording (vocals) |
John T. | Recording (drums), mixing |
Tom Kvålsvoll | Mixing |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
Disc 1 | |||
Side A | |||
1. | Awe - Clotho | 17:00 | Show lyrics |
(Act One: Κnow Her) - The Phenomenon Robed in white, whom Erebus begot on Night Laugh at Her, make Her drunk Saving oneself, salvation needs the Omega The puppeteer asks for Her to play … no one moves the feet of Fates The woven hands Are named … how fool a god can be The Fates being adorned by Thee … darkness enlighten the skies and She Confront this view, it will always be Triple fold Her voice unfold Listen listen listen and be Of all the fools, who’s spread upon thee? With love or hate, no god command thee Of all the wise, who’s spread upon thee? With love or hate, men command thee Virgin, mysterious, would loved to be a whore Beautiful, moonfaced, paled She was born Maria, Mania, Lamia The children of Them recall The prophets protest and lo! Love them, feed them, love them, feed them… The children of Her adore A prophet wasn’t before Hate him, kill him, hate him, kill him… (Act Two: Praise Her) - The Noumenon Hymn to Thee: Aporia il e denblaha Aporia sah e denblama Mas en vuj otrio vastenm Mas en iftehn lodriann shir Cktenddet vorsimen! Cktenddet vorsimen! Cktenddet vorsimen al! Cktenddet vorsimen peg al! One is Her nature, of three Her disguise Three is Her nature, one Her disguise Salvation meets the Omega Praising upon in bowing scene With heart detached, self surrendering Rays of neon lights repelled Accustomed Oneiros before Her hair The age of youth it’s old so old Para-morphosis exposed The age is old so old to cry Thus smiles upon where She dies Meta-morphosis denotes Momentum three times evoked Losing it, finding it, losing it again Salvation removes the Omega Hymn to Thee: Aporia il e denblaha Aporia sah e denblama Mas en vuj otrio vastenm Mas en iftehn lodriann shir Cktenddet vorsimen! Cktenddet vorsimen! Cktenddet vorsimen al! Cktenddet vorsimen peg al! (Act Three: Kill Her) – The Existenz … Alas! Is no more Thou art! Her dream of knot Thou art! Her act of stop Thou art! Her flesh is not Thou art! Her horror dome Thou art thrice better and She is three alone Thou art before the rope … Her crave is no more For what was always I A Fate to adore The Fate of mine Her promise is no more For what is breathing … dying A promise to adore The Fate of mine Her beauty is no more For what is attracting … lying A beauty to adore The Fate of mine Her fate is no more No more Her fate dying What I used to adore Have the voice of mine Perfect endless observances Rays upon the bloody Throne Beautiful, cynical, rewarding Her humble smile Aesthetically, asthmatic, gorgeous Her death in processes divide (Act Not: Epigios) – The Irreversible Predominance A sacred spring forced Her to my spine Once being not, I was not made to be Shapeless flames forming fire My spine becomes volcano Lava erupts! (Act Not: Apogios) - On Nature Listen, and I will instruct thee—and thou, when thou hearest, shalt ponder— What are the sole two paths of research that are open to thinking. One path is: That Being doth be, and Non-Being is not: This is the way of Conviction, for Truth follows hard in her footsteps. Th’ other path is: That Being is not, and Non-Being must be; This one, I tell thee in truth, is an all-incredible pathway. For thou never canst know what is not (for none can conceive it) Nor canst thou give it expression, for one thing are Thinking and Being. ...And to me ‘tis indifferent Whence I begin, for thither again thou shalt find me returning. |
|||
Side B | |||
2. | Vacantfield - Lachesis | 16:57 | Show lyrics |
Κῆρες γὰρ αἱ θανατηφόροι μοῖραι. What necessity brought me these Those linear species of human deeds, What knuckle dreams those vermin’s dream In obscene chords that lie beneath? Shall I measure the thread of life With my spinal rod? Shall I bless you with plague? And at equal intervals In each of the thrones, Shall I bless you with words That you’ll envy their meaning? It begins another season That end will be death. Would you not choose the daemon, Drawn first? Virtue is not dominated The contempt will show... Harvester risen Lachesis risen Universe is the shaft Harvester risen Lachesis risen The reason is corrupted, World without end World without end Chaos craft In the first glowing light Logos provoked this madness This temple of sodom in collateral needs Past present and future flow As soil aerated, For fire came breathing Chronos Thousand sparks stride among you And bear the thought, Of life’s uncertain decree For her words, Snare she shuns Of those with humble harmonies Spin again and again The weft is large, And bliss for fortune dreamers? It looked so dim and dull And the cracked muse, Stares till set of sun When dawns the light uncertain... Matchless Design Revealed will be, And I shall answer... The lanterns... Those valorous puppets... "Like dust of stars show no more" A cynic piece In a rotten needle Lachesis risen |
|||
33:57 | |||
Disc 2 | |||
Single-sided | |||
1. | End - Atropos | 16:33 | Show lyrics |
Eternally swirls the thread
Growing and weaving Cutting and killing Anaplasia of all energy Genesis till cremation That spawns through chaos And the copulation of Nyx When time takes shape And reaches human grounds The thread takes form and coils In the worm womb of creation Flirting with danger Flirting with collapse And the razors of transition The hub pushes with all power The continuum of life unfolds And passes the thread To where it must go Process, formation, demiurge And here you lay before the earth Invoked to live a life till death Never asking why Staring at the sandglass till you die Corruption By the worn will By the tainted living By the torn souls And the wasted minds No gift should be abused This thin spine of cloth needs to be cut Latter end By the time that ends And the melting flesh Deprive what is given The peak of fear The undesirable Softens your subconscious With the sharp pain of loss And the wasted time No longer can be used This thin spine of cloth needs to be cut Suddenly, she appears And sharp is she Like the teeth of the round serpent Divine She cuts the thread of life Riveting and unexpected... Tidal screams In a moment Time becomes a moment In instant delirium And as all chains rattle To enslave the sun To illuminate the spirit They call you death And i call you Atropos The beginning Between the scissors The sharp teeth and the tail Souls she unbind Empress Between the scissors The share is always fair Daughter of night Ruler They call you death And i call you Atropos The beginning |
|||
16:33 |
Moerae
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
End | |
Draenzarth | Guitars, Bass, Synths, Vocals |
Maelstrom | Drums |
Aaron Carey | Vocals |
Vacantfield | |
Domu | Vocals |
Edrha | Effects, Vocals (backing) |
Draenzarth | Bass |
MXT | Guitars, Synths, Effects |
Maelstrom | Drums |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Vamon VII | Artwork |
V. Santura | Mastering (complete) |
Draenzarth | Layout |
Andrew D’Cagna | Recording (vocals) |
John T. | Recording (drums), mixing |
Tom Kvålsvoll | Mixing |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
Disc 1 | |||
Side A | |||
1. | Awe - Clotho | 17:00 | Show lyrics |
(Act One: Κnow Her) - The Phenomenon Robed in white, whom Erebus begot on Night Laugh at Her, make Her drunk Saving oneself, salvation needs the Omega The puppeteer asks for Her to play … no one moves the feet of Fates The woven hands Are named … how fool a god can be The Fates being adorned by Thee … darkness enlighten the skies and She Confront this view, it will always be Triple fold Her voice unfold Listen listen listen and be Of all the fools, who’s spread upon thee? With love or hate, no god command thee Of all the wise, who’s spread upon thee? With love or hate, men command thee Virgin, mysterious, would loved to be a whore Beautiful, moonfaced, paled She was born Maria, Mania, Lamia The children of Them recall The prophets protest and lo! Love them, feed them, love them, feed them… The children of Her adore A prophet wasn’t before Hate him, kill him, hate him, kill him… (Act Two: Praise Her) - The Noumenon Hymn to Thee: Aporia il e denblaha Aporia sah e denblama Mas en vuj otrio vastenm Mas en iftehn lodriann shir Cktenddet vorsimen! Cktenddet vorsimen! Cktenddet vorsimen al! Cktenddet vorsimen peg al! One is Her nature, of three Her disguise Three is Her nature, one Her disguise Salvation meets the Omega Praising upon in bowing scene With heart detached, self surrendering Rays of neon lights repelled Accustomed Oneiros before Her hair The age of youth it’s old so old Para-morphosis exposed The age is old so old to cry Thus smiles upon where She dies Meta-morphosis denotes Momentum three times evoked Losing it, finding it, losing it again Salvation removes the Omega Hymn to Thee: Aporia il e denblaha Aporia sah e denblama Mas en vuj otrio vastenm Mas en iftehn lodriann shir Cktenddet vorsimen! Cktenddet vorsimen! Cktenddet vorsimen al! Cktenddet vorsimen peg al! (Act Three: Kill Her) – The Existenz … Alas! Is no more Thou art! Her dream of knot Thou art! Her act of stop Thou art! Her flesh is not Thou art! Her horror dome Thou art thrice better and She is three alone Thou art before the rope … Her crave is no more For what was always I A Fate to adore The Fate of mine Her promise is no more For what is breathing … dying A promise to adore The Fate of mine Her beauty is no more For what is attracting … lying A beauty to adore The Fate of mine Her fate is no more No more Her fate dying What I used to adore Have the voice of mine Perfect endless observances Rays upon the bloody Throne Beautiful, cynical, rewarding Her humble smile Aesthetically, asthmatic, gorgeous Her death in processes divide (Act Not: Epigios) – The Irreversible Predominance A sacred spring forced Her to my spine Once being not, I was not made to be Shapeless flames forming fire My spine becomes volcano Lava erupts! (Act Not: Apogios) - On Nature Listen, and I will instruct thee—and thou, when thou hearest, shalt ponder— What are the sole two paths of research that are open to thinking. One path is: That Being doth be, and Non-Being is not: This is the way of Conviction, for Truth follows hard in her footsteps. Th’ other path is: That Being is not, and Non-Being must be; This one, I tell thee in truth, is an all-incredible pathway. For thou never canst know what is not (for none can conceive it) Nor canst thou give it expression, for one thing are Thinking and Being. ...And to me ‘tis indifferent Whence I begin, for thither again thou shalt find me returning. |
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Side B | |||
2. | Vacantfield - Lachesis | 16:57 | Show lyrics |
Κῆρες γὰρ αἱ θανατηφόροι μοῖραι. What necessity brought me these Those linear species of human deeds, What knuckle dreams those vermin’s dream In obscene chords that lie beneath? Shall I measure the thread of life With my spinal rod? Shall I bless you with plague? And at equal intervals In each of the thrones, Shall I bless you with words That you’ll envy their meaning? It begins another season That end will be death. Would you not choose the daemon, Drawn first? Virtue is not dominated The contempt will show... Harvester risen Lachesis risen Universe is the shaft Harvester risen Lachesis risen The reason is corrupted, World without end World without end Chaos craft In the first glowing light Logos provoked this madness This temple of sodom in collateral needs Past present and future flow As soil aerated, For fire came breathing Chronos Thousand sparks stride among you And bear the thought, Of life’s uncertain decree For her words, Snare she shuns Of those with humble harmonies Spin again and again The weft is large, And bliss for fortune dreamers? It looked so dim and dull And the cracked muse, Stares till set of sun When dawns the light uncertain... Matchless Design Revealed will be, And I shall answer... The lanterns... Those valorous puppets... "Like dust of stars show no more" A cynic piece In a rotten needle Lachesis risen |
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33:57 | |||
Disc 2 | |||
Single-sided | |||
1. | End - Atropos | 16:33 | Show lyrics |
Eternally swirls the thread
Growing and weaving Cutting and killing Anaplasia of all energy Genesis till cremation That spawns through chaos And the copulation of Nyx When time takes shape And reaches human grounds The thread takes form and coils In the worm womb of creation Flirting with danger Flirting with collapse And the razors of transition The hub pushes with all power The continuum of life unfolds And passes the thread To where it must go Process, formation, demiurge And here you lay before the earth Invoked to live a life till death Never asking why Staring at the sandglass till you die Corruption By the worn will By the tainted living By the torn souls And the wasted minds No gift should be abused This thin spine of cloth needs to be cut Latter end By the time that ends And the melting flesh Deprive what is given The peak of fear The undesirable Softens your subconscious With the sharp pain of loss And the wasted time No longer can be used This thin spine of cloth needs to be cut Suddenly, she appears And sharp is she Like the teeth of the round serpent Divine She cuts the thread of life Riveting and unexpected... Tidal screams In a moment Time becomes a moment In instant delirium And as all chains rattle To enslave the sun To illuminate the spirit They call you death And i call you Atropos The beginning Between the scissors The sharp teeth and the tail Souls she unbind Empress Between the scissors The share is always fair Daughter of night Ruler They call you death And i call you Atropos The beginning |
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16:33 |
Providentia
Members | |
---|---|
Miscellaneous staff | |
Konstantinos Psichas | Cover art |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Actus Primus | 20:00 | Show lyrics |
t’s at the most crucial moment when answers to great questions need not be debated, but acted. Should a golem that discovers its own nature end itself in despair, or re-assume its role in resignation? We now see, the virtuous ape attempting to adopt the role of the Creator. But what good of is God deprived of omnipotence and immortality? How confident is a supreme Judge, looking through a lens of myopia? To embrace Chaos and feed out of doubt... The curse which is placed upon humanity, is rather not the wrong at its heart, But the prisons imposed by causality, the deception of autonomy, The despair of inadequacy. Incurvatus in se. Woe to you, strayed sheep! Still directionless in spite of your consummations. For it is not the ultimate void which is the most monstrous of destinies, but a small light… That is yourself, surrounded by a universe of darkest malice, By shadows, shadows of ignorance, the so called eventuality, The fear of transfiguration, a nescient creature tearing its own flesh. What is the true essence of human desire, but a hopeless conflict with the inescapable? A consciousness that has so gracefully elevated from dust to spirit, should accept no reconciliation, But voraciously consume what only deserves to be experienced, not fathomed or figured. For the young soul, fixated through illuminating ordeals on Ideals of Absoluteness An inquisitive gaze unmasks all mortal affirmations as vulgar delusion, dreadful impartiality. Am I expected to ascend on rotten steps? Curse to whom had conceived the Notion of Truth! The greatest deceptor of common man, an inviting light from beyond eternity For others to seek for in despair. Still, despicably so, by swimming in the filth. “What we cannot speak of, we must pass over in silence." A circle of Magi perched upon Gaia’s summit. Those in front, are slowly shrinking into nothingness Below, drenched in blood their castrated limbs lie. Others, walking madly with carved out eyes, Or laying still with a stare of arid comfort. Bent over for Divine Grace. "Shall you join us?" "Through Awe I can shape the reality of others, but who will be the agent of mine?" In the abode of the humble, no hungry soul should abide. For small, timid striders, there is no resting place but underneath the eternal sand’s embrace. And in-between humanity, there is nothing else certain but eternal strife Of the meekly, against the courageous, of the simple, against the perplexed. Defiance and Retribution. |
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2. | Actus Secundus | 16:34 | Show lyrics |
Deep within the corridors of existence, hides a sleeping Beast Transmuting seemingly harmless fire, into sickly sadistic Blight. How can I control a thought which transpires from another? A cruel, unwanted procession. Wandering aimlessly, without ardor. How is not the outward reality but a theatre of shadows? The entourage of subordinancy is feigned indifference When the blind are rewarded for averting their eyes, the impotent for chastity, A place amongst Heaven is a drop of piss, in an ocean of wine. O self-looker, be enamored with the most adamant of courage You descend in the Land where nothing stands, but twists and curls. By my own will I shall grab Ariadne’s thread and unweave it, Even to the utmost, sunless abysses should it lead me. Do we truly see inside the tangling of the threads, or simply associate one end with another... Am I Mine, or am I a multitude of Others? Come suffering, horror, ridicule and derision! I adore your righteous nails, plunging the soul like surgical blades Cutting a way through opulent, caressing fabrics In nakedness to leave, inviting and enigmatic. Hungry eyes, burning glares upon my mirage of disgrace, Of a beast with many faces, banished into convenient obscurity My Makers, I bow for you in arrogant gratitude As I tear down your entrails, quenchless parasites I will never succumb into ignorant, finite pleasures of resignation, of fated condemnation! Give me instead a thousand eternal torments of Prometheus, the futile anticipation of Sisyphus, For I seek the Only Light, the guidance towards the Above. As mind is flesh and flesh is earthly, the path towards ascension is like the diagonal course of an arrow, piercing through parchment, leaving its trace on it like the supreme reveals itself upon the mundane, cryptically and partially. Shrouded in mystery, grasped by intuition. Unproven, shunned and solitary. Let me rejoice at this wondrous moment when your agony turns into sadistic laughter, For "madness", the renouncement of linearity is but a passage. No ambition is there in symphony, no fervor in static. To be awakened from the sleep of servitude, one must self-induce the greatest of indignities, vilest of maladies, to be written-off from God’s little plan of semi-conscious cogwheels in the game of deathly transformation. Contra Natura, the beginning of freedom. As my flesh is carved, bent and reshaped, I look and see through the particles of matter Space and time unravel in complexities immense, multifarious yet, still resisting to interpretation. Oh Revelation supreme! Great Promise, Vision of splendor! You urge me to pursue you in depths of existence untrodden In cosmic impiety, in adversary with all of Being itself! |
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3. | Actus Purus | 14:55 | Show lyrics |
All life is burdened with the curse of finality, The pitch black mountain which roses above every gust of hope. Was this Your secret present to the bearers of consciousness? To watch them in agony as you withdrew to the depths of darkness. Confronted with the insanity of discontinuity Man has long resolved to understanding you As a deathbed analgesic, a past time delinquency Yet, their masks of wax are always stricken with terror. And still You rule with an iron fist. Without will, consciousness, agency. Assimilating, transfiguring, annihilating. You puny, smallest «God». I have reached the Gate of Pleroma And I am knocking to deaf ears. No lamb or serpent awaiting to embrace me The air is choking with a lifeless silence, that of solitude. O Providentia! How I wish that you would strip me off memory So that I may stride in you as a child, back to the lands of old. For this is a deceiving journey into Nothingness In which everything that you see, is what you carry with you. Will not the refolding of everything that has ever unfolded eventually reach back to the primordial, one Source? Therefore, if singularity can self-manifest, a precedence should exist even for the unprecedented. As I feel the last of the human essence slip through I remember from a single seed you have once created everything. This, thy all common gift to your children Is the Sanctuary I will defile and enter My final blasphemy. When there is no beginning, there can be no end. All Creation then I shall hunt throughout the galaxy. And as for the end of everything, it shall take place within Me In union Despotic and Profane. In Stasis. Rise up then, my blackened Wings, lift my flesh of coal and thorns Take me to every light in the galaxy, so I may darken it. Burn then, my scepter, with my Hate and Hunger, So that I may consume the heart of the innocent. I am now ALL. I am now ONE. And at last I see the only, true darkness. Nothing. Τίποτα. Silence. Stasis. The loudest cry. The grandest laugh. The cruelest joke. Everything was predestined. All of this had happened before and will happen again. Recoil. Once again, throughout the purposeless eternity. As I tear my flesh free, in my last second, I understand. I am now the Womb, the Mother. The Creator. Recoiling. Eternally. |
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51:29 |
Providentia
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Konstantinos Psichas | Cover art |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Actus Primus | 20:00 | Show lyrics |
t’s at the most crucial moment when answers to great questions need not be debated, but acted. Should a golem that discovers its own nature end itself in despair, or re-assume its role in resignation? We now see, the virtuous ape attempting to adopt the role of the Creator. But what good of is God deprived of omnipotence and immortality? How confident is a supreme Judge, looking through a lens of myopia? To embrace Chaos and feed out of doubt... The curse which is placed upon humanity, is rather not the wrong at its heart, But the prisons imposed by causality, the deception of autonomy, The despair of inadequacy. Incurvatus in se. Woe to you, strayed sheep! Still directionless in spite of your consummations. For it is not the ultimate void which is the most monstrous of destinies, but a small light… That is yourself, surrounded by a universe of darkest malice, By shadows, shadows of ignorance, the so called eventuality, The fear of transfiguration, a nescient creature tearing its own flesh. What is the true essence of human desire, but a hopeless conflict with the inescapable? A consciousness that has so gracefully elevated from dust to spirit, should accept no reconciliation, But voraciously consume what only deserves to be experienced, not fathomed or figured. For the young soul, fixated through illuminating ordeals on Ideals of Absoluteness An inquisitive gaze unmasks all mortal affirmations as vulgar delusion, dreadful impartiality. Am I expected to ascend on rotten steps? Curse to whom had conceived the Notion of Truth! The greatest deceptor of common man, an inviting light from beyond eternity For others to seek for in despair. Still, despicably so, by swimming in the filth. “What we cannot speak of, we must pass over in silence." A circle of Magi perched upon Gaia’s summit. Those in front, are slowly shrinking into nothingness Below, drenched in blood their castrated limbs lie. Others, walking madly with carved out eyes, Or laying still with a stare of arid comfort. Bent over for Divine Grace. "Shall you join us?" "Through Awe I can shape the reality of others, but who will be the agent of mine?" In the abode of the humble, no hungry soul should abide. For small, timid striders, there is no resting place but underneath the eternal sand’s embrace. And in-between humanity, there is nothing else certain but eternal strife Of the meekly, against the courageous, of the simple, against the perplexed. Defiance and Retribution. |
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2. | Actus Secundus | 16:34 | Show lyrics |
Deep within the corridors of existence, hides a sleeping Beast Transmuting seemingly harmless fire, into sickly sadistic Blight. How can I control a thought which transpires from another? A cruel, unwanted procession. Wandering aimlessly, without ardor. How is not the outward reality but a theatre of shadows? The entourage of subordinancy is feigned indifference When the blind are rewarded for averting their eyes, the impotent for chastity, A place amongst Heaven is a drop of piss, in an ocean of wine. O self-looker, be enamored with the most adamant of courage You descend in the Land where nothing stands, but twists and curls. By my own will I shall grab Ariadne’s thread and unweave it, Even to the utmost, sunless abysses should it lead me. Do we truly see inside the tangling of the threads, or simply associate one end with another... Am I Mine, or am I a multitude of Others? Come suffering, horror, ridicule and derision! I adore your righteous nails, plunging the soul like surgical blades Cutting a way through opulent, caressing fabrics In nakedness to leave, inviting and enigmatic. Hungry eyes, burning glares upon my mirage of disgrace, Of a beast with many faces, banished into convenient obscurity My Makers, I bow for you in arrogant gratitude As I tear down your entrails, quenchless parasites I will never succumb into ignorant, finite pleasures of resignation, of fated condemnation! Give me instead a thousand eternal torments of Prometheus, the futile anticipation of Sisyphus, For I seek the Only Light, the guidance towards the Above. As mind is flesh and flesh is earthly, the path towards ascension is like the diagonal course of an arrow, piercing through parchment, leaving its trace on it like the supreme reveals itself upon the mundane, cryptically and partially. Shrouded in mystery, grasped by intuition. Unproven, shunned and solitary. Let me rejoice at this wondrous moment when your agony turns into sadistic laughter, For "madness", the renouncement of linearity is but a passage. No ambition is there in symphony, no fervor in static. To be awakened from the sleep of servitude, one must self-induce the greatest of indignities, vilest of maladies, to be written-off from God’s little plan of semi-conscious cogwheels in the game of deathly transformation. Contra Natura, the beginning of freedom. As my flesh is carved, bent and reshaped, I look and see through the particles of matter Space and time unravel in complexities immense, multifarious yet, still resisting to interpretation. Oh Revelation supreme! Great Promise, Vision of splendor! You urge me to pursue you in depths of existence untrodden In cosmic impiety, in adversary with all of Being itself! |
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3. | Actus Purus | 14:55 | Show lyrics |
All life is burdened with the curse of finality, The pitch black mountain which roses above every gust of hope. Was this Your secret present to the bearers of consciousness? To watch them in agony as you withdrew to the depths of darkness. Confronted with the insanity of discontinuity Man has long resolved to understanding you As a deathbed analgesic, a past time delinquency Yet, their masks of wax are always stricken with terror. And still You rule with an iron fist. Without will, consciousness, agency. Assimilating, transfiguring, annihilating. You puny, smallest «God». I have reached the Gate of Pleroma And I am knocking to deaf ears. No lamb or serpent awaiting to embrace me The air is choking with a lifeless silence, that of solitude. O Providentia! How I wish that you would strip me off memory So that I may stride in you as a child, back to the lands of old. For this is a deceiving journey into Nothingness In which everything that you see, is what you carry with you. Will not the refolding of everything that has ever unfolded eventually reach back to the primordial, one Source? Therefore, if singularity can self-manifest, a precedence should exist even for the unprecedented. As I feel the last of the human essence slip through I remember from a single seed you have once created everything. This, thy all common gift to your children Is the Sanctuary I will defile and enter My final blasphemy. When there is no beginning, there can be no end. All Creation then I shall hunt throughout the galaxy. And as for the end of everything, it shall take place within Me In union Despotic and Profane. In Stasis. Rise up then, my blackened Wings, lift my flesh of coal and thorns Take me to every light in the galaxy, so I may darken it. Burn then, my scepter, with my Hate and Hunger, So that I may consume the heart of the innocent. I am now ALL. I am now ONE. And at last I see the only, true darkness. Nothing. Τίποτα. Silence. Stasis. The loudest cry. The grandest laugh. The cruelest joke. Everything was predestined. All of this had happened before and will happen again. Recoil. Once again, throughout the purposeless eternity. As I tear my flesh free, in my last second, I understand. I am now the Womb, the Mother. The Creator. Recoiling. Eternally. |
|||
51:29 |
Providentia
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Konstantinos Psichas | Cover art |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
Disc 1 | |||
Side A | |||
1. | Actus Primus | 20:00 | Show lyrics |
t’s at the most crucial moment when answers to great questions need not be debated, but acted. Should a golem that discovers its own nature end itself in despair, or re-assume its role in resignation? We now see, the virtuous ape attempting to adopt the role of the Creator. But what good of is God deprived of omnipotence and immortality? How confident is a supreme Judge, looking through a lens of myopia? To embrace Chaos and feed out of doubt... The curse which is placed upon humanity, is rather not the wrong at its heart, But the prisons imposed by causality, the deception of autonomy, The despair of inadequacy. Incurvatus in se. Woe to you, strayed sheep! Still directionless in spite of your consummations. For it is not the ultimate void which is the most monstrous of destinies, but a small light… That is yourself, surrounded by a universe of darkest malice, By shadows, shadows of ignorance, the so called eventuality, The fear of transfiguration, a nescient creature tearing its own flesh. What is the true essence of human desire, but a hopeless conflict with the inescapable? A consciousness that has so gracefully elevated from dust to spirit, should accept no reconciliation, But voraciously consume what only deserves to be experienced, not fathomed or figured. For the young soul, fixated through illuminating ordeals on Ideals of Absoluteness An inquisitive gaze unmasks all mortal affirmations as vulgar delusion, dreadful impartiality. Am I expected to ascend on rotten steps? Curse to whom had conceived the Notion of Truth! The greatest deceptor of common man, an inviting light from beyond eternity For others to seek for in despair. Still, despicably so, by swimming in the filth. “What we cannot speak of, we must pass over in silence." A circle of Magi perched upon Gaia’s summit. Those in front, are slowly shrinking into nothingness Below, drenched in blood their castrated limbs lie. Others, walking madly with carved out eyes, Or laying still with a stare of arid comfort. Bent over for Divine Grace. "Shall you join us?" "Through Awe I can shape the reality of others, but who will be the agent of mine?" In the abode of the humble, no hungry soul should abide. For small, timid striders, there is no resting place but underneath the eternal sand’s embrace. And in-between humanity, there is nothing else certain but eternal strife Of the meekly, against the courageous, of the simple, against the perplexed. Defiance and Retribution. |
|||
Side B | |||
2. | Actus Secundus | 16:34 | Show lyrics |
Deep within the corridors of existence, hides a sleeping Beast Transmuting seemingly harmless fire, into sickly sadistic Blight. How can I control a thought which transpires from another? A cruel, unwanted procession. Wandering aimlessly, without ardor. How is not the outward reality but a theatre of shadows? The entourage of subordinancy is feigned indifference When the blind are rewarded for averting their eyes, the impotent for chastity, A place amongst Heaven is a drop of piss, in an ocean of wine. O self-looker, be enamored with the most adamant of courage You descend in the Land where nothing stands, but twists and curls. By my own will I shall grab Ariadne’s thread and unweave it, Even to the utmost, sunless abysses should it lead me. Do we truly see inside the tangling of the threads, or simply associate one end with another... Am I Mine, or am I a multitude of Others? Come suffering, horror, ridicule and derision! I adore your righteous nails, plunging the soul like surgical blades Cutting a way through opulent, caressing fabrics In nakedness to leave, inviting and enigmatic. Hungry eyes, burning glares upon my mirage of disgrace, Of a beast with many faces, banished into convenient obscurity My Makers, I bow for you in arrogant gratitude As I tear down your entrails, quenchless parasites I will never succumb into ignorant, finite pleasures of resignation, of fated condemnation! Give me instead a thousand eternal torments of Prometheus, the futile anticipation of Sisyphus, For I seek the Only Light, the guidance towards the Above. As mind is flesh and flesh is earthly, the path towards ascension is like the diagonal course of an arrow, piercing through parchment, leaving its trace on it like the supreme reveals itself upon the mundane, cryptically and partially. Shrouded in mystery, grasped by intuition. Unproven, shunned and solitary. Let me rejoice at this wondrous moment when your agony turns into sadistic laughter, For "madness", the renouncement of linearity is but a passage. No ambition is there in symphony, no fervor in static. To be awakened from the sleep of servitude, one must self-induce the greatest of indignities, vilest of maladies, to be written-off from God’s little plan of semi-conscious cogwheels in the game of deathly transformation. Contra Natura, the beginning of freedom. As my flesh is carved, bent and reshaped, I look and see through the particles of matter Space and time unravel in complexities immense, multifarious yet, still resisting to interpretation. Oh Revelation supreme! Great Promise, Vision of splendor! You urge me to pursue you in depths of existence untrodden In cosmic impiety, in adversary with all of Being itself! |
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36:34 | |||
Disc 2 | |||
Single-sided | |||
1. | Actus Purus | 14:55 | Show lyrics |
All life is burdened with the curse of finality, The pitch black mountain which roses above every gust of hope. Was this Your secret present to the bearers of consciousness? To watch them in agony as you withdrew to the depths of darkness. Confronted with the insanity of discontinuity Man has long resolved to understanding you As a deathbed analgesic, a past time delinquency Yet, their masks of wax are always stricken with terror. And still You rule with an iron fist. Without will, consciousness, agency. Assimilating, transfiguring, annihilating. You puny, smallest «God». I have reached the Gate of Pleroma And I am knocking to deaf ears. No lamb or serpent awaiting to embrace me The air is choking with a lifeless silence, that of solitude. O Providentia! How I wish that you would strip me off memory So that I may stride in you as a child, back to the lands of old. For this is a deceiving journey into Nothingness In which everything that you see, is what you carry with you. Will not the refolding of everything that has ever unfolded eventually reach back to the primordial, one Source? Therefore, if singularity can self-manifest, a precedence should exist even for the unprecedented. As I feel the last of the human essence slip through I remember from a single seed you have once created everything. This, thy all common gift to your children Is the Sanctuary I will defile and enter My final blasphemy. When there is no beginning, there can be no end. All Creation then I shall hunt throughout the galaxy. And as for the end of everything, it shall take place within Me In union Despotic and Profane. In Stasis. Rise up then, my blackened Wings, lift my flesh of coal and thorns Take me to every light in the galaxy, so I may darken it. Burn then, my scepter, with my Hate and Hunger, So that I may consume the heart of the innocent. I am now ALL. I am now ONE. And at last I see the only, true darkness. Nothing. Τίποτα. Silence. Stasis. The loudest cry. The grandest laugh. The cruelest joke. Everything was predestined. All of this had happened before and will happen again. Recoil. Once again, throughout the purposeless eternity. As I tear my flesh free, in my last second, I understand. I am now the Womb, the Mother. The Creator. Recoiling. Eternally. |
|||
14:55 |
Providentia
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Konstantinos Psichas | Cover art |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
Side A | |||
1. | Actus Primus | 20:00 | Show lyrics |
t’s at the most crucial moment when answers to great questions need not be debated, but acted. Should a golem that discovers its own nature end itself in despair, or re-assume its role in resignation? We now see, the virtuous ape attempting to adopt the role of the Creator. But what good of is God deprived of omnipotence and immortality? How confident is a supreme Judge, looking through a lens of myopia? To embrace Chaos and feed out of doubt... The curse which is placed upon humanity, is rather not the wrong at its heart, But the prisons imposed by causality, the deception of autonomy, The despair of inadequacy. Incurvatus in se. Woe to you, strayed sheep! Still directionless in spite of your consummations. For it is not the ultimate void which is the most monstrous of destinies, but a small light… That is yourself, surrounded by a universe of darkest malice, By shadows, shadows of ignorance, the so called eventuality, The fear of transfiguration, a nescient creature tearing its own flesh. What is the true essence of human desire, but a hopeless conflict with the inescapable? A consciousness that has so gracefully elevated from dust to spirit, should accept no reconciliation, But voraciously consume what only deserves to be experienced, not fathomed or figured. For the young soul, fixated through illuminating ordeals on Ideals of Absoluteness An inquisitive gaze unmasks all mortal affirmations as vulgar delusion, dreadful impartiality. Am I expected to ascend on rotten steps? Curse to whom had conceived the Notion of Truth! The greatest deceptor of common man, an inviting light from beyond eternity For others to seek for in despair. Still, despicably so, by swimming in the filth. “What we cannot speak of, we must pass over in silence." A circle of Magi perched upon Gaia’s summit. Those in front, are slowly shrinking into nothingness Below, drenched in blood their castrated limbs lie. Others, walking madly with carved out eyes, Or laying still with a stare of arid comfort. Bent over for Divine Grace. "Shall you join us?" "Through Awe I can shape the reality of others, but who will be the agent of mine?" In the abode of the humble, no hungry soul should abide. For small, timid striders, there is no resting place but underneath the eternal sand’s embrace. And in-between humanity, there is nothing else certain but eternal strife Of the meekly, against the courageous, of the simple, against the perplexed. Defiance and Retribution. |
|||
Side B | |||
2. | Actus Secundus | 16:34 | Show lyrics |
Deep within the corridors of existence, hides a sleeping Beast Transmuting seemingly harmless fire, into sickly sadistic Blight. How can I control a thought which transpires from another? A cruel, unwanted procession. Wandering aimlessly, without ardor. How is not the outward reality but a theatre of shadows? The entourage of subordinancy is feigned indifference When the blind are rewarded for averting their eyes, the impotent for chastity, A place amongst Heaven is a drop of piss, in an ocean of wine. O self-looker, be enamored with the most adamant of courage You descend in the Land where nothing stands, but twists and curls. By my own will I shall grab Ariadne’s thread and unweave it, Even to the utmost, sunless abysses should it lead me. Do we truly see inside the tangling of the threads, or simply associate one end with another... Am I Mine, or am I a multitude of Others? Come suffering, horror, ridicule and derision! I adore your righteous nails, plunging the soul like surgical blades Cutting a way through opulent, caressing fabrics In nakedness to leave, inviting and enigmatic. Hungry eyes, burning glares upon my mirage of disgrace, Of a beast with many faces, banished into convenient obscurity My Makers, I bow for you in arrogant gratitude As I tear down your entrails, quenchless parasites I will never succumb into ignorant, finite pleasures of resignation, of fated condemnation! Give me instead a thousand eternal torments of Prometheus, the futile anticipation of Sisyphus, For I seek the Only Light, the guidance towards the Above. As mind is flesh and flesh is earthly, the path towards ascension is like the diagonal course of an arrow, piercing through parchment, leaving its trace on it like the supreme reveals itself upon the mundane, cryptically and partially. Shrouded in mystery, grasped by intuition. Unproven, shunned and solitary. Let me rejoice at this wondrous moment when your agony turns into sadistic laughter, For "madness", the renouncement of linearity is but a passage. No ambition is there in symphony, no fervor in static. To be awakened from the sleep of servitude, one must self-induce the greatest of indignities, vilest of maladies, to be written-off from God’s little plan of semi-conscious cogwheels in the game of deathly transformation. Contra Natura, the beginning of freedom. As my flesh is carved, bent and reshaped, I look and see through the particles of matter Space and time unravel in complexities immense, multifarious yet, still resisting to interpretation. Oh Revelation supreme! Great Promise, Vision of splendor! You urge me to pursue you in depths of existence untrodden In cosmic impiety, in adversary with all of Being itself! |
|||
3. | Actus Purus | 14:55 | Show lyrics |
All life is burdened with the curse of finality, The pitch black mountain which roses above every gust of hope. Was this Your secret present to the bearers of consciousness? To watch them in agony as you withdrew to the depths of darkness. Confronted with the insanity of discontinuity Man has long resolved to understanding you As a deathbed analgesic, a past time delinquency Yet, their masks of wax are always stricken with terror. And still You rule with an iron fist. Without will, consciousness, agency. Assimilating, transfiguring, annihilating. You puny, smallest «God». I have reached the Gate of Pleroma And I am knocking to deaf ears. No lamb or serpent awaiting to embrace me The air is choking with a lifeless silence, that of solitude. O Providentia! How I wish that you would strip me off memory So that I may stride in you as a child, back to the lands of old. For this is a deceiving journey into Nothingness In which everything that you see, is what you carry with you. Will not the refolding of everything that has ever unfolded eventually reach back to the primordial, one Source? Therefore, if singularity can self-manifest, a precedence should exist even for the unprecedented. As I feel the last of the human essence slip through I remember from a single seed you have once created everything. This, thy all common gift to your children Is the Sanctuary I will defile and enter My final blasphemy. When there is no beginning, there can be no end. All Creation then I shall hunt throughout the galaxy. And as for the end of everything, it shall take place within Me In union Despotic and Profane. In Stasis. Rise up then, my blackened Wings, lift my flesh of coal and thorns Take me to every light in the galaxy, so I may darken it. Burn then, my scepter, with my Hate and Hunger, So that I may consume the heart of the innocent. I am now ALL. I am now ONE. And at last I see the only, true darkness. Nothing. Τίποτα. Silence. Stasis. The loudest cry. The grandest laugh. The cruelest joke. Everything was predestined. All of this had happened before and will happen again. Recoil. Once again, throughout the purposeless eternity. As I tear my flesh free, in my last second, I understand. I am now the Womb, the Mother. The Creator. Recoiling. Eternally. |
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51:29 |
Providentia
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Konstantinos Psichas | Cover art |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
Disc 1 | |||
Side A | |||
1. | Actus Primus | 20:00 | Show lyrics |
t’s at the most crucial moment when answers to great questions need not be debated, but acted. Should a golem that discovers its own nature end itself in despair, or re-assume its role in resignation? We now see, the virtuous ape attempting to adopt the role of the Creator. But what good of is God deprived of omnipotence and immortality? How confident is a supreme Judge, looking through a lens of myopia? To embrace Chaos and feed out of doubt... The curse which is placed upon humanity, is rather not the wrong at its heart, But the prisons imposed by causality, the deception of autonomy, The despair of inadequacy. Incurvatus in se. Woe to you, strayed sheep! Still directionless in spite of your consummations. For it is not the ultimate void which is the most monstrous of destinies, but a small light… That is yourself, surrounded by a universe of darkest malice, By shadows, shadows of ignorance, the so called eventuality, The fear of transfiguration, a nescient creature tearing its own flesh. What is the true essence of human desire, but a hopeless conflict with the inescapable? A consciousness that has so gracefully elevated from dust to spirit, should accept no reconciliation, But voraciously consume what only deserves to be experienced, not fathomed or figured. For the young soul, fixated through illuminating ordeals on Ideals of Absoluteness An inquisitive gaze unmasks all mortal affirmations as vulgar delusion, dreadful impartiality. Am I expected to ascend on rotten steps? Curse to whom had conceived the Notion of Truth! The greatest deceptor of common man, an inviting light from beyond eternity For others to seek for in despair. Still, despicably so, by swimming in the filth. “What we cannot speak of, we must pass over in silence." A circle of Magi perched upon Gaia’s summit. Those in front, are slowly shrinking into nothingness Below, drenched in blood their castrated limbs lie. Others, walking madly with carved out eyes, Or laying still with a stare of arid comfort. Bent over for Divine Grace. "Shall you join us?" "Through Awe I can shape the reality of others, but who will be the agent of mine?" In the abode of the humble, no hungry soul should abide. For small, timid striders, there is no resting place but underneath the eternal sand’s embrace. And in-between humanity, there is nothing else certain but eternal strife Of the meekly, against the courageous, of the simple, against the perplexed. Defiance and Retribution. |
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Side B | |||
2. | Actus Secundus | 16:34 | Show lyrics |
Deep within the corridors of existence, hides a sleeping Beast Transmuting seemingly harmless fire, into sickly sadistic Blight. How can I control a thought which transpires from another? A cruel, unwanted procession. Wandering aimlessly, without ardor. How is not the outward reality but a theatre of shadows? The entourage of subordinancy is feigned indifference When the blind are rewarded for averting their eyes, the impotent for chastity, A place amongst Heaven is a drop of piss, in an ocean of wine. O self-looker, be enamored with the most adamant of courage You descend in the Land where nothing stands, but twists and curls. By my own will I shall grab Ariadne’s thread and unweave it, Even to the utmost, sunless abysses should it lead me. Do we truly see inside the tangling of the threads, or simply associate one end with another... Am I Mine, or am I a multitude of Others? Come suffering, horror, ridicule and derision! I adore your righteous nails, plunging the soul like surgical blades Cutting a way through opulent, caressing fabrics In nakedness to leave, inviting and enigmatic. Hungry eyes, burning glares upon my mirage of disgrace, Of a beast with many faces, banished into convenient obscurity My Makers, I bow for you in arrogant gratitude As I tear down your entrails, quenchless parasites I will never succumb into ignorant, finite pleasures of resignation, of fated condemnation! Give me instead a thousand eternal torments of Prometheus, the futile anticipation of Sisyphus, For I seek the Only Light, the guidance towards the Above. As mind is flesh and flesh is earthly, the path towards ascension is like the diagonal course of an arrow, piercing through parchment, leaving its trace on it like the supreme reveals itself upon the mundane, cryptically and partially. Shrouded in mystery, grasped by intuition. Unproven, shunned and solitary. Let me rejoice at this wondrous moment when your agony turns into sadistic laughter, For "madness", the renouncement of linearity is but a passage. No ambition is there in symphony, no fervor in static. To be awakened from the sleep of servitude, one must self-induce the greatest of indignities, vilest of maladies, to be written-off from God’s little plan of semi-conscious cogwheels in the game of deathly transformation. Contra Natura, the beginning of freedom. As my flesh is carved, bent and reshaped, I look and see through the particles of matter Space and time unravel in complexities immense, multifarious yet, still resisting to interpretation. Oh Revelation supreme! Great Promise, Vision of splendor! You urge me to pursue you in depths of existence untrodden In cosmic impiety, in adversary with all of Being itself! |
|||
36:34 | |||
Disc 2 | |||
Single-sided | |||
1. | Actus Purus | 14:55 | Show lyrics |
All life is burdened with the curse of finality, The pitch black mountain which roses above every gust of hope. Was this Your secret present to the bearers of consciousness? To watch them in agony as you withdrew to the depths of darkness. Confronted with the insanity of discontinuity Man has long resolved to understanding you As a deathbed analgesic, a past time delinquency Yet, their masks of wax are always stricken with terror. And still You rule with an iron fist. Without will, consciousness, agency. Assimilating, transfiguring, annihilating. You puny, smallest «God». I have reached the Gate of Pleroma And I am knocking to deaf ears. No lamb or serpent awaiting to embrace me The air is choking with a lifeless silence, that of solitude. O Providentia! How I wish that you would strip me off memory So that I may stride in you as a child, back to the lands of old. For this is a deceiving journey into Nothingness In which everything that you see, is what you carry with you. Will not the refolding of everything that has ever unfolded eventually reach back to the primordial, one Source? Therefore, if singularity can self-manifest, a precedence should exist even for the unprecedented. As I feel the last of the human essence slip through I remember from a single seed you have once created everything. This, thy all common gift to your children Is the Sanctuary I will defile and enter My final blasphemy. When there is no beginning, there can be no end. All Creation then I shall hunt throughout the galaxy. And as for the end of everything, it shall take place within Me In union Despotic and Profane. In Stasis. Rise up then, my blackened Wings, lift my flesh of coal and thorns Take me to every light in the galaxy, so I may darken it. Burn then, my scepter, with my Hate and Hunger, So that I may consume the heart of the innocent. I am now ALL. I am now ONE. And at last I see the only, true darkness. Nothing. Τίποτα. Silence. Stasis. The loudest cry. The grandest laugh. The cruelest joke. Everything was predestined. All of this had happened before and will happen again. Recoil. Once again, throughout the purposeless eternity. As I tear my flesh free, in my last second, I understand. I am now the Womb, the Mother. The Creator. Recoiling. Eternally. |
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14:55 |
Band ascii art
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