Job 1:7English Standard Version (ESV)
7 The Lord said to Satan, “From where have you come?” Satan answered the Lord and said, “From going to and fro on the earth, and from walking up and down on it.”
It is cold brothers. Dark Crusaders of the eternal Armageddon, can you feel that chill? Somewhere obscured inside that misty grey realm of the Lord, you, who found no peace in vanity, are welcome. Let your heart bleed hard for the unsaid truth screaming without respite, for the Lord seeks your surrender. There is the weeping of the fated. Oh, who can endure that unforgiving torment but the dark grace of hard repentance! Every scream resonates with the horrors of death eternal, music to seek the Lord. What did you find? Lined with the hollow of skull eyes, enter into the pyramid, for the silence beckons you. As the chill sets like hoarfrost, worship, worship the majesty of Satan with all you have. Cry, cry with your might, may He kindle the fire with embers from burning bones. It is cold brothers; it is cold.
Remember how you bled? Revenge, you say, but who is to blame. This grave sadness seeping into the veins from the cold ground freezes the feet. Move forward. Leave the futility of living an unforgiving existence, o, who can feel really? All these stories to share, the unsaid darkness, beware traveler for you are in Hell. This is where you belong. Look around in this great vault of mortal remains, lined by skulls and the ones impaled by His judgment. Can you see the bony phalanges pointing to the underground? Can you feel the steps painted black with sacrificial blood? Come down into the antechamber of execution, and see. See with your own eyes the pain of the bloody cross, of a forsaken Messiah. O, who can feel the pain but the ones baptized with blood? Have you no heart, but a hollow? Seek and seek your lost soul, perhaps you may redeem. Is not the Lord benevolent? Who is to blame?
The Eternal War
The sword, brothers, wield the sword. Whose blood do you seek to dispel on the altars? Whose blood pays the price of freedom? Are you grateful to your enemy? Warrior of the Unholy, brethren of the Inverted Cross, see the rain hissing as she kisses the eternal burning sulfur in this realm of the crestfallen. Implore the rain to come down in torrents. Let the funerals begin. Let the sorrow bestow the feelings that you try so hard to forget. That great snake, did you just feel Him above you? You are in the underground, finding your way out of into the cathartic darkness. Ah, trample them rats scurrying about, itching to severe pieces of flesh for they think nothing of survival. Somewhere in this vault, there is a key that unlocks the gates of lava waiting to envelop this forsaken graveyard. There is also the sonic key to that place of hard repose, where you finally find the answers you sought always. You got to pay with blood.
See around, warriors of the Great Darkness. These chambers of tortured souls testify to the sufferings of the cross. They narrate cold hopelessness, condemned by the judgment of Him, who brought this cursed world to be. Who could escape the sword that came down when there was no pity to feel? In those last vestiges of dreadful sorrow, from love to mercy, and from mercy to pity, those last scream of the doomed are still here. Hear them, let your heart bleed. Are you ready for the sacrifices sought from you? Who did not repent? Who did repent truly, crossing the dark heart to the forsaken tune of the graveyard? As the dead raised themselves, the leprous Lazarus pleaded. O God, why did you abandon me? Lying down in the tomb of the necromancers, those who wait to be alone like thieves in the cemetery, who sees you when no one does? Brothers, you who returned with memories of the Glorious Kingdom, hail, hail the banners of victory! Stand true, for death oversees your fate. This is Black Metal.
This is real. You feel it in your bones. The life that gives is the death that takes. The friend who stands strong is not the one who does not belong to the band. Set the crosses and arrange the stakes, for a doomed Messiah must face the truth. The one who bled and the one who paid his price with blood, the vault carries the stories of all. Everyone and everything belongs to Him. Who can question Him who puts a noose through the nose of the dragon? Who hurled the spears unto the monster beneath the blood moon? The rain fell in torrents. The music played on and on inside the dark forest.