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Dawn Of Azazel
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Conflagration Of The Mortal Soul
Open, oh bowels of the earth, conspire Lay might to us this day Cornica sound, the call, the horn The intonation of intrinsic decay Metamorphose, the sword thus am I Of this law, of this will Praise be to Mars, the thrust gives no quarter Purified from that which is killed
Marching in arms Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com And the masses to expire As all past falls away Unto romanticized funeral pyre
Consumed, civil atavisms smothered by crimson red Enthrone the lion, the lambs words shall lie dead With this sword, transcendence I enthrone 'Vendi, Vidi, Vici', with this I slay my soul
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