The Vision Bleak - Pesta Approaches

Three hags around a fire, of ugliness unseen.
In a grim and murky mire, from a cauldron rises steam.
Murmuring weird rhymes into the winter night.
Their laughter barks and chimes, their reeky breath's a blight.

Their noses stir the brew, the nauseating stew.

Cauldron bubble, cauldron swell in the rhythm of this spell.
Wing of bat and leg of toad, a brat shall be bestowed.

A witch is born.
A witch is born.
Cauldron-born.
A witch is born tonight.

A witch is born.
A witch is born tonight.

A penetrating yell, a savage infant cry.
The priest strikes the death knell in the village nigh.
Four hags around a fire in the grim and murky mire.

Cauldron bubble, cauldron swell in the rhythm of this spell.
Wing of bat and leg of toad, a brat shall be bestowed.

A witch is born.
A witch is born.
Cauldron-born.
A witch is born tonight.

A witch is born.
A witch is born tonight. Открыть страницу с текстом

Where the wild winds blow in their desolate roar,
where lone pines bow their heads in grief.
Where flowers cease to grow and where
the birds don't sing no more.

Deep in the forests
that none can ever leave.

There you can see her fly
across the evening sky
in her mortar, a pestle she swings.

Even the moon does hide
from her despiteous ride,
for she is evil amongst all other things.

Bone mother,
deathless crone.

The cannibal witch,
she feast on human flesh in secrecy.
The cannibal witch,
crushing them bones in grinding glee.

Her hunger is enormous,
so are her iron teeth.
Baba Yaga "Bony Legs",
the cannibal witch.

Her crooked hut lays
concealed in a grove unsound,
wreathed by a fence
made of skulls and bones.

Even the night congeals
when it hears the sound of
snoring nostrils and horrid groans.

She came to lunacy
through endless sorcery,
and thousand days
of lonesomeness.

She is the arch crone,
goddess unknown.
She brings rebirth
which implies death.

Bone mother,
deathless crone.

The cannibal witch,
she feast on human flesh in secrecy.
The cannibal witch,
crushing them bones in grinding glee.

Her hunger is enormous,
so are her iron teeth.
Baba Yaga "Bony Legs",
the cannibal witch. Открыть страницу с текстом

Heretic, sorcerer, fallen son,
tied by a promise to the infernal one.
A pact was to be signed in blood,
to renounce the holy spirit and God.

At a crossroad a circle was drawn,
into the magic of the burning pentagram.
Summoning the fiery prince of Hell,
conjured by an old necromantic spell.

The smell of sulphur filled the night,
seven demons appeared in the unlight.
They handed him the pact in bliss,
and descented back into the black abyss.

Faustus, Spiritus, Rector.
Strigarum, Nekromant.
Faustus, Hexenmeister.
Disclaimer of the sacrosanct.

Granted he was with youth,
thirty years of joy, wisdom and truth.
He indulged in the fleshly delight,
a Witchking he became of the greatest height.

When the time came for the fallen son,
he went to Hell with the infernal one.
For a pact was signed in blood,
to blaspheme the holy spirit and God.

Faustus, Spiritus, Rector.
Strigarum, Nekromant.
Faustus, Hexenmeister.
Disclaimer of the sacrosanct.

Faustus, Spiritus, Rector.
Strigarum, Nekromant.

Faustus. Открыть страницу с текстом

From where she came no one could tell,
the greatest evil of its time.
Medieval curse sent from the depth of Hell
that covered all in deathly grime.

First she swept the cities inexorable,
her name was written in the sky.
Then she reached the realms of the forlorn lands
and there you saw Pesta fly.

In the pompous halls and the beggars lairs,
she crept upwards the stairs.
From the mighty fjords to the desolate shores,
in the northern sky, Pesta fly!

With rake and broom she traveled,
all corners she would clean.
Over sea and river and in the forests deep,
her sanguinary shape was seen.

She rode the night sky on icy winds of death,
and all was covered soon by her putrid breath.
Reaching the out most of all deserted plains,
leaving them all in their plague-ridden pain.

In the pompous halls and the beggars lairs,
she crept upwards the stairs.
From the mighty fjords to the desolate shores,
in the northern sky, Pesta fly!

In the pompous halls,
she crept upwards the stairs.
From the mighty fjords,
in the northern sky.

Pesta fly! Открыть страницу с текстом

They gather in the mountains, where rain falls not far to the ground.
Among the primal fountains and forests of silence profound.
A secret glade elected, between tall stony walls.
From unbidden sights protected, the rite begins as dusk falls.

The fullmoon rises beyond the wooden crest.
Fires ignite everywhere for their highest guest.
At his arrival the feast shall now unfold.
The thirtyfirst of April, as it is foretold.

Demons ride the moonlit sky, torches light their way up high,
to unclose Walpurgis Night in the feral mountainside.
Witches of all age and kin give themself to lust and sin.

Come as maiden, leave as bride.
Satan's joy, the Blocksberg rite.

As if in trance they revel, dance through the nightly sphere.
In honour of the Devil, whom they all hold dear.

At dawn it ends with a sudden turn.
Witches disappear, fires cease to burn.
The sun on the horizon hails the mountain seam.
Another year must pass 'til flames again shall gleam.

Demons ride the moonlit sky, torches light their way up high,
to unclose Walpurgis Night in the feral mountainside.
Witches of all age and kin give themself to lust and sin.

Come as maiden, leave as bride.
Satan's joy, the Blocksberg rite.

The Blocksberg rite. Открыть страницу с текстом

The grim madness of the battlefields, of violence, bloodshed and death.
Crushed bodies and broken shields, brave man take their last breath.
Thither was called the Valkyrie, death angel, a saviour in guise.
But grim, so cold and wintery, armored with desired demise.

Over the mountains, the glorious ride.
Out of the darkness, into the light.

Wonderous their enigma, beauteous and cruel.
Phantasm or reality, lightbearer or ghoul?

In all the chaos and the earthen weight, of torment, torture and pain.
She elects the ones to elevate from the perished and the slain.
The ride is wild and ominous, empyreal and arcane.
In her arms the answer's found to all quests profound.

Over the mountains, the glorious ride.
Out of the darkness, into the light.

Out of the Darkness, into the Light. Открыть страницу с текстом

Lost in the forest endlessly deep.
Betrayed by their kin, exposed to decease.
Where darkness prevailed and the wind blew cold,
despair grew within these little souls.

There appeared a hut in the dark.
They knocked at the door with a trembling heart.
Dismal it seemed, but was there a choice?
A portal then opened in a blood curdling noise.

What do you fear when the moon stands tall?
The wood, the wood, the wood hags call!
Who lures the young and the lonesome kids?
The wood, the wood, the wood hag 'tis!

Who is as grim as the winter's cold?
The wood, the wood, the wood hag old!
Who cooks them all in her stove in bliss?
The wood, the wood, the wood hag 'tis!

Locked in a cage to be a mere dish.
Cattle they were of the evil wood witch.
How could they escape from this dreadful impasse?
Waiting for death to be eaten at last!

What do you fear when the moon stands tall?
The wood, the wood, the wood hags call!
Who lures the young and the lonesome kids?
The wood, the wood, the wood hag 'tis!

Who is as grim as the winter's cold?
The wood, the wood, the wood hag old!
Who cooks them all in her stove in bliss?
The wood, the wood, the wood hag 'tis! Открыть страницу с текстом