1. |
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I'm walking the nightmare following the journey that leads to the gallows.
Bring up into the womb the coward betrayers of the men.
Humid filthy walls and softly light of hopness consume them from above.
But if dark clouds hide the sun...this is the twilight of man.....
A desert spreads to the horizon and the salt is spit on the fields.
The only chosen one cultivation of chains so tight for the humans sinners' feet,
rooted down like dispearing plants filled with ipocricy,
They beg for wisdom to extinct their thirsty...time is over...it's age of aridity!!!
It's time for look through the eyes of your Nemesis!
Ignorance, the fault she condamns you for!
Can you look through the eyes of your Nemesis?
Listen to the chorus of a million children's cry always blowing at your ears.
Her dogs are unleashed to supervise the runaways.
Heavy slowly steps and crawling sound of iron bloodshed of her sword.
But if Her tears are coloured as red...this is the twilight of man.
A garden full of pleas for a pathetic forgivness.
Under Nemesis the culture of fury is freezing the humans on their knees,
meltdown your coscences burn in death-ocracy.
She raises the steel to extinct their sqwuacks...on their napes...vengeance suddenly!!!
You've just looked through the eyes of your Nemesis!
Deracination she condamns you at!
Last second through the eyes of your Nemesis?
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2. |
Lunar Lament
08:43
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Silence kidnapped the Guardian of the Moon,
when the rebell instinct had to break the glass
and the putrid black water rained down on Heart
as little sulphur flames.
If I look up to the firmament
it's still...lunar lament...
The moon is close to the heart, A strangest geometry,
lightest than pure morning, Sacrificed to that reflection,
We extend us to the cosm.
The decline of all our suns, In purpureum confusion,
Until the distant summits, Until the stellar fragments,
Until we hole our eyes.
We are the sons of the Red Moon!
We are the sons of the Red Moon!
Mislaid under the red storm, We've missed our Alma Mater,
Beyond the fog I'll look for, the liquored blood of a Moon,
that triangles to your peak.
Martyrdom of salvation is the price for the lost war:
how many things we hide from? Celestial cry the comets
but obscured our last hopes...
We are the sons of the Red Moon!
We are the sons of the Red Moon!
Silence kidnapped the Guardian of the Moon,
when the rebell instinct had to break the glass
and the putrid black water rained down on Heart
as little sulphur flames.
If I look up to the firmament
it's still...lunar lament.
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3. |
Holocaust!
04:03
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4. |
At the Point of Decision
03:55
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5. |
Without a Dimension
06:11
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6. |
No-Men-Clatures
07:24
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7. |
The Book of Existence
04:56
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8. |
Behind the Rip
06:39
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9. |
Getsemani
04:25
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10. |
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Here reigns the dusk.
Eclypta before the nightmare.
Virgin Mary in my doubts.
Only lights to see the road.
Two verses on a grave.
She is on it there to pray.
In what she must believe?
Exhausted she falls asleep.
Crematorial frost.
So much torment in her dreams.
Months or years of savageries.
Costant blames in her brain.
The last Ave Maria.
Please have mercy of her soul
to excape from the captivity
of the monster behind her eyes.
Here ends the day
Apostasy leads the game
not so stupid to deny
that we are buried alive
Struggle of powers
can revolve our idiology?
but absynth makes us drown
and enjoy our wood.
Lizards for the sun
wich Zenith will us warm?
Winter claims its embrace
and Chill flows at our face.
Flower of Creation
for wich garden are you grown?
Our seeds are potluck meal
for the crows in rotten plumes.
Here reigns the fear.
Diurnal inside the cradle
Atheism beetween his lies
only hate to dig the spell.
Rage above the cry
like a sudden death despair
but he storms his reality
and abandons her to pray.
Which possibilities
could resurge this love undead?
All the sacrifice she has done
All the words he left unsaid.
She waits for that day
laying down on the grave
Inside her prison of disperation...
...Black instinct & abomination!!!
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Nekrosun Varese, Italy
With his unique sound, the Italian metal band Nekrosun - name derived from the metaphorical-introspective theory of the dead sun, created by the versatile opera singer Alberto Bernasconi - ensures his personal vision of metal music, without committing to a single genre, through their first album "Crematorial Frost" (2009) and especially with their second album "The Grace of Oxymoron" (2012). ... more
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