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• Artiste: Pentacle
• Titre: Prophet Of Perdition
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Created before creation, the mother of all wars Indicement against purity, the father of impiety War-lusting spirits, embodied in flesh and soul Marching through the gate of agony and trample down life's gift A deity without a mortal form, craving for insanity pure A struggle within the soul, consuming dignity as a whole The roaring without sound penetrates the void unknown Possessing the sanctum of innocence, riding the infernal winds It's the bearer of seed of what is being called "war" It's the voice without any sound It's the thought which drives one insane It's the hand which ends your reign Now, you've reached the point where no humanity is left A servant of utmost extremities is what you have become at last The horrors of insanity The acts of inhumanity The bestial thoughts of a war-torn mind The indifference of a destructive kind Worshipping the realm of war and serving it with all your might Through iron and lead you'll proclaim the word of terror and fright Bearer of the Seed