Death To All

[I. The Summoning
II. Triumph of the Horned
III. ...and Jesus Wept]

Tartarean gloom covers his throne
Uplifted beyond hope abhorred
With the majesty of darkness round
Whence deep thunders roar.

Satan except, none higher sat
And with grave aspect he rose
This place our dungeon and the spirits damned
By force all hell shall oppose.

Storm through the gates
Depraved and scorned
Thrive on your hate
Triumph of the horned
With hell flames and fury
black fire and horror all at once
The hell-doomed and hell-born legions
Shall storm the gates as one.

Break the chains in the burning lake
Sad of sorrow, deep and black
On obscure wings into the realm of night
With vengeance we attack.

Storm through the gates
Depraved and scorned
Thrive on your hate
Triumph of the horned.

As night descends over Eden
A dust cloud emerges that shadows the moon
The wind sweeps cold and vile
Ashes form a blackened dune.

We came as their prayers were dying
The wind carried a contorted psalm
Envenomed the words of the blinded
Inhaling our whispers unknowingly calm.

Upborne with indefatigable wings
Armed with the secrets of his dark domain
Chaos shall follow his shadow
So the smell of sulphur and fire strange.

Tear through his entrails, with fear and pain
Our supreme enemy dethroned
With blackest Insurrection, to confound
Heaven's purest Light, yet our great foe.

Storm through the gates
Depraved and scorned
Thrive on your hate
Triumph of the horned.