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• Artiste: Belfegor
• Titre: The Work Of Destruction
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The work of destruction Has evolved from the seed of my hatred Poison has penetrated all of human life Into each deed, each thought Each dream and desire The mind of the world, sick and slow Separeted from itself The day is dark, the noon is cold The mind slips into delirium Never to depart The demonic webs of suffering Each tree standing Carries a dozen of veils When they grow together The web becomes a whitened roof And covers a labyrinth beneath Where forests stood before in patience Now there are fields of naked trunks and branches Dressed in the garland of the web Afterwards, there are only dry shards Then, there is only grey swamp Demons Their bodies blacker than the deepest shadows Shine with the reflected light The shapelessness of chaos of primeval fire Like large jewels of the giants The work of destruction has storm-slashed clouds Now they are raining blood Suffering breeds uncontrolled fear And envelops all in the cool, life-safe darkness