Doomed by fate to destruction in war
Bound to fall by the fires of hate
Neither prayer nor seed of the blood divine
Will save your wretched dynasty from my spite
Stood above the mutilated corpse she spoke
From the flooded deserts of her sanguine mind
And the blackest depths of her poisoned heart
Of the spells and tinctures of her bitter, foaming
Vehement vengeance
Blossom and woodsmoke
Spark of dog's blood
Wasps drowned in wine
Incarnadine whorls of Dionysos set me free
The cruel malady grows sharper with the cure
Convulsive paroxysm of pernicious misery
Fastens wicked bones and quickens the blood like fire
Lascivious sorceress of sinister creed
Affliction of ancient breed
Lost in laudanum dreams
Overcome with rapacious desire she writhes
In disheveled regalia, the threadbare cloak of passion
Unfurled, defiled, ripped and torn to shreds
In the light of a huntress moon
Highborne sorceress ensnared in languid lust
Submerged in incantations of a bittersweet decay
Trapped in a vessel of valerian honey
On the vesper of a jaundiced youth
A zealous tryst warped into malice
Awakened to the fragrance of deceit
Her sibylline sight perceives the stronghold's secret
Descending unseen into the deepest crypt of all
To unearth the awful formulas
Of everlasting somatic transubstantiation
Firestone phoenix
The fruit of dead trees
Grand vizier's eye
Unfading elixir, grant me everlasting life
With nectar and idol in stride
She reclaims the dawn
Traversing the crimson sea
Befouled with the blood of kings
With each new rootless tree
The progeny sleep in fear
The realm is hers to plunder
The scions are fair game
Endless reign of strife
At the hands of Scheherazade
For lunacy knows no bounds
When death is but a distant dream
How fast the sobering aeons pass
Now in grief she weeps
For the burning absent essence of life
To yearn from tarnished immortality
For death's sweet certain embrace
Hecate, queen of magick
Of the moon, of the dusk, and of my plight
Unburden me of my loathsome scarlet spells
So that I may live to die
Through velvet veils of violet dusk
The queen of magick lends her trust
To the wailing winds of solitude
That the whimpering hellion radiates
This petulant bitch has had her way
With a thousand lives, a million days
Discarded death in a fit of rage
And only now repents
Sodden in tears awaiting at the crossroads
Two torches emerge and illuminate the night
Attend to my words and fix them in your thoughts
Acrimonious fiend
I am not the Goddess of licentious intemperant whores
Hemlock's shadow, amber-trapped myrrh
Hadean broth, tears of Charybdis
The finespun light of a dying star
To unchain me from dervish lunacy
One final anodyne hex
To withstand life's trial unreproaching
Dark cloak of Nyx, clairvoyance
Coils of ancient manafire rain, immortal flesh
She gave it all up to roam as mortal once more
Obeisance to her queen, the God of magick
She rides, with revitalized lust for life
Cavorting in the second dawn
Daydreaming the second dusk
Whenever it may come to be
As written in the waters of time
And spun by the Moirai of fate... and death
Scheherazade, you conquered your ghost
In the flooded desert of your mind
You drowned the cries of your own tainted soul
In poignant severance
And to the uttermost ends of the earth
You will still be haunted by... me
In the mirrors, in the fountains, in the meadows
I shall be there
In the boudoir, in your dreams
Turned into nightmares
Pulling you astray like a flood
Rotting your resolve like a blight
Sapping your spirit like a famine
I shall be there, because revenge
Is the Gods' most favoured game of all
supported by 18 fans who also own “Red Spells of Scheherazade”
Heaviest thing I’ve heard all year along with Altarage. Okay I’ve been listening to this record for the past two weeks and it just gets better and better. Dissonant grooves galore Jacob Ballance
Joseph Hawker subverts the musical and sociopolitical status quo with a black metal triptych that's as incendiary as it is impressionistic. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 5, 2022
supported by 18 fans who also own “Red Spells of Scheherazade”
Ἡ εἰκών was an impressive debut, but way too short! Luckily, Ψευδομένη arrives to satisfy the urge for more of what made its precedessor hit hard and fast: some atmospheric moments (don't be deterred as this is still brutal, dissonant and disgusting to the core) and at the same time, J.L. is exploring longer tracks - e.g. my personal favourite - and implementing some cavernous lows. If there's one thing we can all agree on, it's most likely that this man refuses to stand still. What a pace! David Fischer