Pazuzu (Lost into a Valley of Rot)

Whip the flesh to admire it bleed

And greet the pain through self-blasphemy

What a desire to gaze in awe and hear in unborn tongues

Wander aimlessly between gods and hellhounds

With thunder roaring our meager memories

Younger lady weaving tapestries will soon pierce her blame

Burden won`t cease at one single dawn

Agony won`t show the field to be trodden

Hear my tune, amazing poisoned wombs

Crows to pinch my hands

...and they say:

"Plague, what sentence to face the reckoning

And worst, glad to be safe from death

Wistful by himself, sentenced to rule

There`s no reason to find our hope

No milk for firstborns ?cause they are lost into a valley of rot"

No parents for children nor candles for faith

It`s grandiose to know that the burial well is filled with tears

Surrounded by darkness and mists

One sip, enough for the seer

Souls immune to the Walpurgis bonfire enjoy her swaying dance

Burden won`t cease at one single dawn

Agony won`t show the field to be trodden

Hear my tune, distilled and sown with drought

A pantheon of worms

...and my insistence on saying, resisting aloud:

"No sacred rosary hugs those who sell their souls

Dew lies upon the heads of those who stagnated in faith

No genius thought remains in lurking of a captive mind

Pazuzu`s valley just keeps somber to the unkindest race"

Scorn

Iniquitous, ungodly, aware

Irrigate the funeral but flowers won`t appear

Every pain of sacrificious kind will have its purpose in fear