1. |
Doom Junkie
04:45
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Have you heard the news today?
(There’s a babbling thunderstorm coming on)
Which truth did you choose to say?
(Take shelter with your sharp tongues drawn)
How much did we throw away?
(Spread the word like a plague of pawns)
You all stand accused.
(Fragmented in the haze and decay)
I’ve become a mad recluse
(The glass cracks growing deeper everyday)
Knowledge brings me black and blues.
(Point the finger and join the fray)
One more step to the depths of clarity
You’re jonesing for something pure and true
Doom junkie, you have all you could ever need;
There’s no shortage of misery for you
Waking up to travesty
(The mass hysteria takes a hold)
Sorcery and savagery
(Flashy devils got a slideshow to behold)
I see past the majesty.
(Despondency is bought and sold)
Slumber grants me no reprieve
(The abject suffering of mankind)
I don’t know what to believe
(Compassion corrupted and misaligned.)
illusion's all that I perceive.
(Until the next outrage consumes our minds)
The fury becomes an addiction, it's a terrible sight
We watch, we seethe, and divide to the demons’ delight
The craving grows in all ye mortal souls, o’ degenerates, junkies and fiends
By the ruinous enchantment upon the illuminated screen
One…
More…
Step……
On the path of agony
And soon you will know what everybody knows, too.
Doom Junkie, you’re gonna reap this sorrow seed!
There’s no shortage of misery for you.
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2. |
Priestess of the Deep
05:30
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From the briny darkness
The missionaries rose
They bid the land folk sacrifice
To the gods below
They offered sunken gold
With a bounty of fish to devour
The scaly priestess raised her staff
To evoke her powers
Priestess of the deep, and the herald of terrestrial demise
Chanting sermon spells, the dire divinations mesmerize
True to her word
Sanctified by the priestess’ spell
The town was spared the horrors
From where the great ones dwell
To the cerulean depths
First born sons and daughters condemned
Generations despoiled
By the maritime men
Priestess of the deep, anointed in the cloister of the blackest lagoon
Chanting sermon spells, to beckon storms and the deadliest monsoons
The fearsome tides, the leviathan’s bride
The blasphemies from the salty seas
The temple gates wherein the priestess awaits
The chosen few; she’s calling for you!
The daughter of the Hydra
Preaches the mystic ways
Hungry oceans rising
For the end of days
Priestess of the deep, and the harbinger of the surface dwellers’ doom
Waking from their sleep, forgotten monsters reborn from the sunken tombs
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3. |
Bedlam Harvest
06:42
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The heralds of nightmares
Survival of the paranoid
Speak prophecies to blank stares
Tranquility destroyed
Beguiled by the fell tales
Vexed by electric spells
The charlatan prevailing
Vassals from a radiant hell
The bedlam harvest of the fertile fears
The scythe cuts deeply into new frontiers
So how to discern ally from adversary?
The bedlam harvest for the devils’ feast
To siphon precious moments from the ones who live in peace
And gather this grime for truth to be buried
Proclaiming allegiance
To agendas and the factions’ fray
Quelling the insurgents
Seeking untraveled ways
We came craving wisdom
The taste of clarity
But in a cowardly kingdom
Shelter and terror are all we see
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Blacksoul Seraphim Worcester, Massachusetts
Blacksoul Seraphim was created to convey the suffering, pity, and sorrow that a fallen celestial being would feel being bound to dwell in our frail, corrupted mortal society.
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