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CRYPTOPSY LYRICS
"Once Was Not" (2005)
1. Luminum
2. In the Kingdom Where Everything Dies, the Sky Is Mortal
3. Carrionshine
4. Adeste Infidelis
5. The Curse of the Great
6. The Frantic Pace of Dying
7. Keeping the Cadaver Dogs Busy
8. Angelskingarden
9. The Pestilence That Walketh in Darkness (Psalm 91 : 5-8)
10. The End
11. Endless Cemetery
1. Luminum
2. In the Kingdom Where Everything Dies, the Sky Is Mortal
We are...
Weare aware that we are;
We are Breathing...
This is our present Exhalatation,
(and) then comes Inspiration
...wait for it...
For thee, mortals, a cataclysm
Wherein all (that) thou knowest shall die,
For in this Kingdom where everything dies,
Where even the Sky is mortal,
What is Not and has always been,
For thee must never be
Thine ancient gods in their Pantheons
will cease to be,
utterly,
and the Stars in thy Firmanent:
all will die
and thy Prayers for Deliverance:
all will die
and be One in a nucleon
...Reductio ad Absurdum...
Momentum
Continuum
Sacramentum
Sacriligium
...Fires
mortal Terra...
One final Perfect Day.
From aAll to Absense in one Breath
It is all One Single Grain:
It is all One,
And Nevermore is a new Beginning...
3. Carrionshine
After the Fire, their bodies at Rest,
beyond mere Blood, beyond mere Breath:
their terror summons the vapours of Fright,
a mating call to things of the night
The Things they'll become after they Die
have alled to us before their Time:
the Dark Horse of Dreams has brought them here
thos this Ur-Place that feeds on fear,
where the only light comes from their Bones
that Glow, now: all their flesh is Gone
A) Voice between Rivers
Sings (the Truth that Destroys
Then it Laughs like a Dog
(The) Voice Between Worlds
has Existence to Void,
and it Dwells in their Bones
« That which was Drawn in the sane for me
by the Man of Blood
whose Hand never ends,
Herals all Mortality
And He-Who-Waits-beneath-the-Scream »...
oh, to be possessed of Carrionshine
to Dream past the limits of carcasskind
The Prayer goes « Unite to Thee thy Bones-
What appertains to Thee is Complete »
4. Adeste Infidelis
Oh come all ye unfaithful,
decaying and wretched,
to this Cradle of impiety
to lay your impure heads
Fare thee well
or fare thee ill:
one way or another
some blood shall spill
What to do?
Inter? Cremate
all those who've died from all the hate
from this Execrable Aggregate
that nurtures the corrupt?
Proselytes,
anchorites,
crusaders, wet me with your Cathar kiss
Bow to them?
Crawl for them.
those loathsome Mahometic effigies?
No!
Once, there were boundaries,
The lay of the land was well defined.
Came a hell of rats, and now
« le temps entre chien et loup » is nigh.
« Manquerais-je Fidélité dans mon Pays? Jamais!
Cessons nos reculs pour nous trouver des bastions
dans des terres loitaines :
les fauves nous harcélent à tout jamais.
c'est donc à nous de passer à l'Action. »
In houses on fire, where everyone dies, on the Killing Grounds of war, in the torn fresh and flies
I know I saw you there
In the Heart of Disease, where Love is a stone,
on the faces of those whose hate is as bone
I know I saw you there,
where Hatred rules supreme.
5. The Curse of the Great
Know ye not (Have ye forgotten?)
your place in the earth?
We know (as we've always known)
(that) there can be no place
for such as ye
upon our blameless, benighted earth
The breath of the dead
fills the stagnant breeze:
now, the world is perfect
(and) those left behind still weep
(And) should the question of terror arise
we'll draw our hate down from the skies
We live beneath a carcass moon
that makes a horror of all days
for on this battlefield
even the wicked get worse than they deserve
«But then, it is the curse of the great
to have to walk over the corpses.»
«Es war schon immer der fluch der mächtigen
über leichen schreiten zu müssen.»
With our deeds of carnage
we hail bloodshed our immortal king
6. The Frantic Pace of Dying
They are living candles
and we will watch them burn
Their frantic pace of dying
is so hard to maintain
Into the arms of Solace you go:
(we sing the screams of men;)
"make a Joyful Noise unto the Lord,"
scream and scream again
Age or Beauty: which to burn?
There's always room for one less;
Suffering is the Master from Whom we learn:
keep this Secret and be blessed
In these, the last days before Revelation,
as Existence is fultile and Failure is not an option,
they bleed for Love of the Body,
and they die for the Body;
now, only silence remains...
a sylvan silence
The sick,
the dying,
the dead,
the rotting,
the damned...
...the burning
Their lives, as such, are but a trifle;
their sacrifices, much like compost,
will help to nourish the Seeds of the Future;
this august Body cannot cease to grow
"Arbeit macht frei"
until you die;
welcome to permanent downtime
They are living candles
and we will watch them burn out
All these small Deaths
of mind, of body...
Rest is for the weak
7. Keeping the Cadaver Dogs Busy
We, who end lives with a wink and a smile
and a song in our hearts and a twinkling eye,
do so with a noble purpose in mind:
to thin out the rabble of mankind
We are never where you think
we'll be
the shadow underneath your
sink
our teeth into
your fragile flesh
is ours to do with as we
"Please,
oh, help me!"
Here come the cadaver dogs;
they'll find where the dead girl lies;
unlike us, they'll be soft with her
like she were made of eyes
"Street musician found strangled
in the trunk of a car,"
"Gutted vagrant found hanging
from a tree in the park,"
"Naked infant found frozen
on some steps leading down,"
"Headless foetus found rotting
on the roof of a house"
Recycle the body pits
and human cluster dumps
filled with the burnt, the stabbed,
and the lucky machinegunned
There are no victims,
just landfill statistics
where overpopulation threatens us all;
"Disordered Thinking:"
is that what they call it?
So, our culling (of) the herd has left you appalled?
(Or,) see it as self-defense,
if no other way:
encroaching humans number our days;
probe the young for signs
to no effect:
serial killing's not a birth defect
Here come the cadaver dogs:
they'll find where the dead man lies;
unlike us, they'll be soft with him,
like he were thinning ice
8. Angelskingarden
Touched by Jeqon
the Inciter,
well-rounded womanflesh
doth tempt
the Angels of the Watch
to sin,
and their Sons are
Nephilim
Thrice Blessed are we in His Garden:
we have the Word, our health, our kin:
as we "go forth and multiply,"
we take from each other's skin
Endogamy: the Choice of millions
in (all their) Elemental ugliness:
in the echoes of Repitition,
Imperfection sires itself
Nothing in Life
has any business being Perfect:
it's an affront
to anyone with good taste
Choice is Divine,
so choose Family over stangers;
why trouble the Waters
of the gene pool for a mate?
Carbon Vessel
carbon content
carbon copy
...Carbonize...
Like a lump between to surgeons,
Man quivers 'twixt desire and need;
the Law is the Will, and we've chosen
the Kingdom of Which we would be
In filial Sect,
we are Genesis Incarnate:
in our faces,
see Manifest Destiny
(and) leave nothing alive
With thoughts of Heaven come deeds of flesh:
we'd look once more upon His Holy Visage,
and our children whom we've known and wed
(are) our means to recreate His Image
In lurking Fear of His Displeasure
after dark, between their cries,
in the Eye of the Beholder:
this is where Beauty dies
9. The Pestilence That Walketh in Darkness (Psalm 91 : 5-8)
"Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night,
for the arrow that flieth by day,
For the pestilence that walketh in darkness,
for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.
A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand
at thy right hand: but it shall not come nigh thee.
Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold,
and see the reward of the wicked."
One last
perfect night of Life on Earth,
I saw
a pestilence descend on wings
plague black,
as it rode the ancient Star Wind:
there are
things more horrible than death
10. The End
11. Endless Cemetery
Beneath a shawl of midnight Silence,
a howling Blackness
where all is remade
in necromorphosis,
asleep in human remains
Worn from the stones,
elegiac word
recounting hopes
and forgotten lives,
for beneath them lies
the Dust of humans,
the Dust of dreams,
the Dust...
A coach drawn by the blackest steeds,
as befits those who've passed from Life,
will bring you to where swarm the specters
of Man's best-loved Funerals
The Laws of Flesh are here repealed:
Vigor Mortis is now the Way,
so count the black beads of your Sorrow
while you stammer your frightened prayers
Readjust your vision, see the warp in the Shadows...
there's Something wrong with the Dark:
Something that thrives on Wretchedness and Sorrow
and makes the darkness crawl
Rain-swelled clouds
blot out the sun,
damned nor'easter
chilling the Dark
Branches, sticks,
thistles, thorns,
feathers, fur,
mud and bones...
Dying ground
A Lifeless Thing of earthen heath,
seeing soil from beneath,
knows the Need to Summon flesh
to its maw
Cold blue lips frame (a) yard-wide grin
that Calls to flesh, to let it in,
and thus indulge its Yearning
come the unDawn
Roam the endless Cemetary of what once was,
(where) the Allfeeling is never truly Gone
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