Sabbat - History Of A Time To Come (1988)

Faustus begin thine incantations,
take good care to draw thy circle true,
by God must you prevail -
for if you fail these
demons make a meal of you.

Your soul shall be their meat -
a kingly feast for them to eat,
beware your future at hand,
alas for thou art dammed.

[GOOD ANGEL:]
"Faustus seek repentance,
abjure this evil art,
cease this wretched wickedness
and cleans thy foolish heart,
for the evil that once served you
has made of you a slave,
and transformed your bed of roses''
to a premature grave."

Then in a mighty flash of light
before thee Mephistopheles appears.

[FAUSTUS:]
"I charge thee go and change thy shape,
for you fill my soul with fear.
Now swift-as-hell back to the fire
return an old Franciscan Friar."

[MEPHISTOPHELES:]
"Mortal command me while you can,
For surely thou art dammed."

[BAD ANGEL:]
"Faustus be thou resolute
in what thou wilst perform,
ignore these righteous idiots -
their trinity to scorn,
for years of deprivation you receive eternal life,
but fame and wealth and maidens-fair
are by far the better price."

[FAUSTUS:]
"Temptations all around me,
is there nowhere I can turn?
Hellfire is all about me,
now I know that I shall burn,
I face excommunication for the error
of my ways - to burn in Hell for all my days.
Bell, book and candle, candle, book, bell,
forwards and backwards to damn me to Hell.

Jehova I beg thee have mercy on my soul.
Be gone foul beast that stands before me,
my God! The midnight hour chimes,
oh Lord have mercy he comes for me,
I haven''t got much time.
I am awake this is no dream,
I cry - but terror takes my scream,
and now my future is at hand,
also for I am dammed."

[GOOD ANGEL:]
"Think for just one moment
and I''m sure that you will see,
the moral of this story -
that what shall be must be.
He who gives his soul to Hell,
must dare to pay the price,
he versed in divinity must
live a noble life -
OR ELSE HE IS DAMNED!

One man - one vision, racial purity,
madman or magician? A mystery to me,
he who scorns the teachings of
Blavatsky count the cost,
there''s more than superstition
hides behind the crooked cross.

Our destiny in prophecy -
we learn by our mistakes,
through each strata of society -
the poison infiltrates,
adding hatred to the embers -
''till the fire burns out of hand,
to spread the dark cloud swiftly -
''cross our ''Green and Pleasant Land''.

Security in ignorance,
out of sight is out of mind,
while children weep on city streets -
the blind deceive the blind,
they say ''welcome your lost brother
all he touches turns to gold'',
yet my ''brother'' tries to kill me -
out of love so I am told.

My blood with yours shall mingle,
our spirits unify,
if our hearts are joined as one
then we can never die.

Now the ''Dove of Peace'' lies dead,
upon this land our fathers bled,
and ''Drakes Drum'' lies deserted on the sand,
I see the keepers of the peace -
hacked to pieces in the streets,
victims of the ''brotherhood of man''.

History repeats itself - of this fact I am sure,
stupidity defeats us if its lessons we ignore,
so heed these words of warning
before it is too late,
to preach the ''New Religion'' -
the philosophy of hate.

My blood with yours shall mingle,
our spirits unify,
if our hearts are joined as one
then we can never die.

Now the ''Dove of Peace'' lies dead,
upon this land our fathers bled,
and ''Drakes Drum'' lies deserted on the sand,
I see the keepers of the peace -
hacked to pieces in the streets,
victims of the ''brotherhood of man''.

One man''s condition - pure insanity?
a nation''s submission - embracing destiny,
driven by compulsion - powered by the Vril,
do not mock the Crooked Cross - its power
is growing still.

Our tongues they could not silence,
with their malicious lies,
their unforgotten violence,
remember those who died.

And as my flesh is put to fire,
I hear their voices still,
their unjust accusations,
demanding I am killed.

''We shall show no mercy to heathen
such as thee,
who stand accused and have refused
the Church''s clemency,
your wicked acts are endless,
though the crimes they cannot name,
innocent or guilty proved,
we''ll burn you just the same.''

Burning, into the fire.
Burning, a funeral pyre.
Burning, into the fire.
Burning, a funeral pyre.

This self-righteous inquisition,
is a plague upon our land,
as false as the confessions they force
from shattered hands.

''We shall show no mercy to heathen
such as thee,
who stand accused and have refused
the Church''s clemency,
your wicked acts are endless,
though the crimes they cannot name,
innocent or guilty proved,
we''ll burn you just the same.''

Burning, into the fire.
Burning, a funeral pyre.
Burning, into the fire.
Burning, a funeral pyre.

Abused my broken body is cleansed
by righteous flame,
their God a ''God of Mercy'' -
yet in whose name I''m slain.

My innocence the victim of their
superstitious fears,
religious persecution for the past
three hundred years,
preaching peace and mercy ''neath the
shadow of the knife,
a papal reign of terror -
slaughter in the name of Christ.

And as my flesh is put to fire,
I hear their voices still,
their unjust accusations,
demanding I am killed.

''We shall show no mercy to heathen
such as thee,
who stand accused and have refused
the Church''s clemency,
your wicked acts are endless,
though the crimes they cannot name,
innocent or guilty proved,
we''ll burn you just the same.''

Burning, into the fire.
Burning, a funeral pyre.
Burning, into the fire.
Burning, a funeral pyre.

Alone he sits -
a vanquished Lord upon an oaken throne,
presiding o''er this conflict
that chills him to the bone,
for each tarnished blade that festers
is a thorn thrust in his side,
and His pain alone bears witness
to the folly of mankind.

What hope for a king with no kingdom to rule?
now his children desert him -
regard him a fool,
and are bonded to progress -
the plough and the scythe -
that lay waste and leave barren
what beauty survives
though legends of power and glory suffice -
for these ''latter-day-heroes''
who live out their lives,
chained by conformity shackled by greed -
and told to believe they don''t want to be freed.

The enemy within us -
is well armed to spoil and rape,
and this mighty heart grows weaker with
each liberty they take,
so come ye from the shadows
do not tremble ''neath your beds,
at the mention of his name -
hold high your weary heads.

For in each delve and greenwood,
far wiser creatures play,
and in their veins and sinews,
live the Gods of yesterday.

Both wicked and lustful
this God''s horny might,
He plays hide and seek
with the shadows of the night,
enthroned in high mountains -
nobility crowned with the wisdom of ages -
the forest his gown,
so nimble the fingers that pipe out the tune,
simple and pure is the song of the moon -
that echoes each evening the ritual performed,
a lament for a God to a Devil transformed.

Are there men among us
prepared to face the fight
who''ll stand by their convictions
''gainst overwhelming might,
so do not hide like cowards
and await the bitter end,
come take your courage in both hands
and join with me my friend.

For in each delve and greenwood,
far wiser creatures play,
and in their veins and sinews,
live the Gods of yesterday.

A God of many faces
yet none of them are known
existing in all places at all times -
His glory shown in the majesty of nature,
let the Hymn to Pan be sung
for the myth is but a History of a Time to Come.

What hope for a king with no kingdom to rule?
now his children desert him -
regard him a fool,
and are bonded to progress -
the plough and the scythe -
that lay waste and leave barren
what beauty survives
though legends of power and glory suffice -
for these ''latter-day-heroes''
who live out their lives,
chained by conformity shackled by greed -
and told to believe they don''t want to be freed.

The enemy within us -
is well armed to spoil and rape,
and this mighty heart grows weaker with
each liberty they take,
so come ye from the shadows
do not tremble ''neath your beds,
at the mention of his name -
hold high your weary heads.

For in each delve and greenwood,
far wiser creatures play,
and in their veins and sinews,
live the Gods of yesterday.

His name is eternal - His power unknown,
the ruler paternal - He watches alone,
as great cities tumble and empires fall,
admist this confusion the Hunter stands tall.

Soldiers of fortune,
kings of Hades,
in our quest for power unite,
black messiahs,
devastation angels,
gird our loins -
prepare to fight:

With weapons drawn in anger,
at last we stand our ground,
crusaders of damnation,
in death our purpose is found at last.

Charge!

We''re cleansing the world with
destruction and war,
fear for your life when we knock at your door,
there will be no salvation,
just death and starvation,
and Earth shall be Hell evermore.

Hark! The fallen Angels sing:
"Glory to Satan our King,
the Holy Church we thus defied,
the usurper crucified."

Prayer shall offer no protection,
from the swords of Blasphemy,
holy altars rent asunder,
in our deeds - priests their destruction see:

The fear that dwells within them,
at the wrath of Satan''s hoard,
grows and fills their hearts with terror,
those who live by prayer - die by the sword.

We''re cleansing the world with
destruction and war,
fear for your life when we knock at your door,
there will be no salvation,
just death and starvation,
and Earth shall be Hell evermore.

Hark! The fallen Angels sing:
"Glory to Satan our King,
the Holy Church we thus defied,
the usurper crucified."

Dark formations fly above us,
ghastly are the Lords of Hell,
who proudly storm the gates of heaven,
from which their noble masters fell...

Soldiers of fortune,
kings of Hades,
in our quest for power unite,
black messiahs,
devastation angels,
gird our loins -
prepare to fight:

With weapons drawn in anger,
at last we stand our ground,
crusaders of damnation,
in death our purpose is found at last.

Charge!

We''re cleansing the world with
destruction and war,
fear for your life when we knock at your door,
there will be no salvation,
just death and starvation,
and Earth shall be Hell evermore.

Hark! The fallen Angels sing:
"Glory to Satan our King,
the Holy Church we thus defied,
the usurper crucified."

[INTRODUCTION]
This tale I tell that all may see,
behind God''s truth lurks treachery.

[VOICE OF GOD]
''Mine is the right to glory and light,
and you shall have heartache and pain,
yours must be Hell -
for in Heaven I''ll dwell,
I care not for that earthly domain.''

[HOST OF RIGHTEOUS ANGELS]
''For crimes against divinity -
the loneliness of purgatory,
your kingdom rule - Humanity,
Mankind shall be your Hell.''

[LUCIFER]
''Why have you done this to me -
tell me what is my crime,
I''m tried and convicted -
guilty the fate that is mine.
You say I''m a Devil -
then by Hell the Devil I''ll be.''

[NARRATION]
''As aeons passed without cessation -
brewing hatred from damnation,
in darkness Satan waited -
laughed as God the Earth created,
and man in his own image made -
unaware that plans were laid,
''till from the dark eternal night -
a serpent crawled into the light.

And so from darkness a rage without measure -
burst spreading the cancer ''cross Eden,
corrupting and tempting and never relenting,
abusing man''s newly found freedom.''

[LUCIFER]
''Out of the abyss I come the avenger
shapeless and faceless - Yet I have a name,
I shall tighten my grip on your now flawed creation,
endeavor to show you the meaning of pain.''

''It soothes my heart,
to see you cry,
when I am done,
you will learn as I -
to suffer in Hell.''

''Impaled on the horns of a dilemma -
it seems what were my nightmares,
are now naught but dreams,
for you who have riches know paradise well,
and I who have nothing am burning in Hell.''

The stage is set my friends for the play that never ends -
this comedy we call the Church Bizarre,
once you enter you are bound to find salvation by the pound,
assured the more you pay the nearer God you are.

Your mouth so paralyzed with fear you dare not speak,
your eyes so blind and hypnotized you cannot weep,
so blinkered to reality that you no longer care,
that profit is the prophet of corruption and despair.

Bring on the dancers - bring on the clowns,
who invite you to ride on their merry-go-rounds,
they make the money and they make the rules,
you ''Born-Again-Christians'' are born again fools.

[THE EVANGELIST PRAYER:]
God of wealth and God of might guide me to your paradise,
for many lives were bought and sold that
I may walk your streets of gold,
though my heart is cold and still I rest
in peace my pockets filled,
and bear the smile of one who knows
through God''s Love my cup overflows.

A ''salvation salesman''s dream -
gullible to the extreme,
easy pickings for the charm and ''savoir faire'',
of these charlatans and thieves whose
delight is to deceive - all the fools who
still believe they really care.

And if all the Devil''s minions were let loose to do their will,
I think they''d be hard pressed to match in diabolic skill,
the wickedness and treachery of this evangelic horde,
who shelter their corruption with the banner of their Lord.

Bring on the dancers - bring on the clowns,
who invite you to ride on their merry-go-rounds,
they make the money and they make the rules,
you ''Born-Again-Christians'' are born again fools.

[THE EVANGELIST PRAYER:]
God of wealth and God of might guide me to your paradise,
for many lives were bought and sold that
I may walk your streets of gold,
though my heart is cold and still I rest
in peace my pockets filled,
and bear the smile of one who knows
through God''s Love my cup overflows.

The curtain never falls on the show that has it all,
taken in you can''t begin to see their lies,
for the people who are clapping are the ones
who will be laughing at your fate,
they just can''t wait to bleed you dry.