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Merrimack - Omegaphilia cover art


TypeStudio Full-length
GenresBlack Metal
LabelsSeason of Mist Underground Activists
Album rating :  -
Votes :  0
Lyrics > M > Merrimack Lyrics (32) > Omegaphilia Lyrics (5) >

At the Vanguard of Deception Lyrics

7. At the Vanguard of Deception (9:07)
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.
Submitted by level Eagles (2017-07-09)       Last modified by level Eagles (2017-08-05)
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