The Past Is Like Funeral

Sometimes when I visit the landscapes of the shadows
Something that recalls the grave
Hides in the hellish depths and awaits
When I dream, it peeks into empty goblet
Becomes the wine of ecstasy and licentiousness
I know the one in a flock said "Watch out, watch out"
But I will not go away till I taste the sweetness of your body
No matter it poisons and causes death

The past is like an eternal funeral

Years, thousands of them, I rotted in a monastic cell
I resembled a stone, hiding my murderous self in silence and fear
I lasted in the infinity of meditations and contemplations
Waiting for the deserved dream, there on the holy land
And its taste and coldness I remember
Barefoot digging my own pit
I was kissing it as if the sweetest lover and begged
But was the sand to become my salvation?
Or worms the people on the court of light
The past reeks of an oak coffin, so wet and old

The past reeks of an oak coffin, so wet and old

Burning dirty claws in the wooden eyes of Jehovah
I killed mercy, spitting on the laws of god
I celebrated the birth of power
I fell in love with freedom and the beast
And I spat out the Antichrist from my morbid womb
In order to give life to divine grain
And concentrate the birth of human tragedy and destruction
I envisaged myself as a great magician
Although they called Armageddon the whore
Today I celebrate my birth, though I am elder than the world

I am elder than the world

The past only sometimes is like the sand
That the grave-digger throws in your eyes