Chaining the Katechon Lyrics

Song	Chaining the Katechon
Artist	Deathspell Omega
Album	Chaining the Katechon
Download	Image LRC TXT

	« Le verdict ne vient pas d'un coup, le processus lui-même se transforme petit à petit en verdict. »
	In a place beyond all resistance
	Devouring the roots of the bush of fire
	Forsaken even by the crows
	The dream of the abortion of Babylon shivers
	And stuttering words
	As mere echoes in the desert
	Vanish in those lower spheres
	Where shame is unknown.
	It is a vain Earth.
	A vision, final, of deceit.
	There can be no refuge
	In this grotesque liquid flowing
	Where shapes melt into each other
	Where cause becomes consequence.
	To err with the insane
	In hostile immensities…
	How legitimate is the faith into despair ?
	A bond of hallowed essence
	between all that pulsates
	it is the primeval degradation
	the erosion, the crumbling,
	the everlasting scission.
	It is disturbance and anxiety
	As absolutes,
	for the world is becoming.
	Still, a temple stands
	And a star shines.
	The slopes slaver pus
	Towards the skies and the thorn
	Courts the wound.
	The sun of dolour shines :
	They enter in its brilliance
	Those who are divided
	With their dazzled mouths,
	The eerie ray of exile
	Shall be their guide.
	Scattered they walk towards
	The incestuous womb.
	The fertile womb of two
	And three and all.
	The weight of these bodies
	In the shallow waters
	Shatters the poise.
	There is a tear of fire
	In the sky of the worlds.
	There is a tear of fire
	And your tongue of light
	Caressed by the silent leprosy
	Of your palate
	Whispers about the gulch of lies
	The tranquil occupation of agony
	The dire liquors of a mass-grave
	And the perilous pedagogy of the abyss.
	We went to the through, Lord.
	We went bend and convulsed.
	We saw blood, Lord. It was glittering.
	You dispensed it and we drank it.
	We saw your image.
	The gap of our eyes and mouths is void.
	We went bent and convulsed.
	It broke us and dissolved us.
	Liable for the core of the origins
	There remains a pulsating debt
	Radiant in its multiple scissions
	It stands between the mother
	And her repudiated child
	Behind the hand that murders
	And amid attempts of reconciliation.
	The dispersion of woe on a vain Earth
	Is done with equity.
	The task to be achieved, human vocation
	Is to become intensely mortal
	Not to shrink back
	Before the voices
	coming from the gallows tree
	A work making increasing sense
	By its lack of sense
	In the history of times there is
	But the truth of bones and dust.
	Thinly grinded to white powder
	In the mill of fragmentation
	You give it to brothers and sisters
	The remains of the Oath
	Vague echoes of a day of midnight
	The advent of that which never was
	The coming of a man from the grave.
	Still a temple stands
	And a star shines.
	Unceasingly, those who can not be one
	Exchange their rings
	In an arched world
	Exhausted by the division
	The stale principle of stellar times.
	A ford alike
	Between the crimson rivers
	Carrying along their murky waters
	Countless extinct cradles.
	Merely a glance ahead
	Resonates the wailing of flowers
	Under such a suffocating heat
	That men entered into gestation
	You hold a palimpsest of dolour
	Once forgotten that the fall
	Is our fall.
	That death is no channel
	Anymore to rejoin the clay
	of a fractioned God.
	The act of a free man
	Connected to the balance of the world
	Projects itself into the infinite
	But the fracture
	Its ontological ballast
	The dispersion and the overcoming
	Bring a harvest of increasing conflict
	A descending spiral of splinters
	Lacerating the meridians.
	The temple stands
	Its walls a prison
	For the Katechon
	While the plowshare grates
	On the crystal hard and vivid tear
	And blood pours from the furrows
	While the star shines high
	No place to cover from
	Its rotten light…
	Ho-
	sanna
	Ho-
	san-
	na
	Ho-
	san-
	n-
	a

	nbsp Le verdict ne vient pas d' un coup, le processus luim me se transforme petit a petit en verdict. nbsp
	In a place beyond all resistance
	Devouring the roots of the bush of fire
	Forsaken even by the crows
	The dream of the abortion of Babylon shivers
	And stuttering words
	As mere echoes in the desert
	Vanish in those lower spheres
	Where shame is unknown.
	It is a vain Earth.
	A vision, final, of deceit.
	There can be no refuge
	In this grotesque liquid flowing
	Where shapes melt into each other
	Where cause becomes consequence.
	To err with the insane
	In hostile immensities
	How legitimate is the faith into despair nbsp?
	A bond of hallowed essence
	between all that pulsates
	it is the primeval degradation
	the erosion, the crumbling,
	the everlasting scission.
	It is disturbance and anxiety
	As absolutes,
	for the world is becoming.
	Still, a temple stands
	And a star shines.
	The slopes slaver pus
	Towards the skies and the thorn
	Courts the wound.
	The sun of dolour shines nbsp:
	They enter in its brilliance
	Those who are divided
	With their dazzled mouths,
	The eerie ray of exile
	Shall be their guide.
	Scattered they walk towards
	The incestuous womb.
	The fertile womb of two
	And three and all.
	The weight of these bodies
	In the shallow waters
	Shatters the poise.
	There is a tear of fire
	In the sky of the worlds.
	There is a tear of fire
	And your tongue of light
	Caressed by the silent leprosy
	Of your palate
	Whispers about the gulch of lies
	The tranquil occupation of agony
	The dire liquors of a massgrave
	And the perilous pedagogy of the abyss.
	We went to the through, Lord.
	We went bend and convulsed.
	We saw blood, Lord. It was glittering.
	You dispensed it and we drank it.
	We saw your image.
	The gap of our eyes and mouths is void.
	We went bent and convulsed.
	It broke us and dissolved us.
	Liable for the core of the origins
	There remains a pulsating debt
	Radiant in its multiple scissions
	It stands between the mother
	And her repudiated child
	Behind the hand that murders
	And amid attempts of reconciliation.
	The dispersion of woe on a vain Earth
	Is done with equity.
	The task to be achieved, human vocation
	Is to become intensely mortal
	Not to shrink back
	Before the voices
	coming from the gallows tree
	A work making increasing sense
	By its lack of sense
	In the history of times there is
	But the truth of bones and dust.
	Thinly grinded to white powder
	In the mill of fragmentation
	You give it to brothers and sisters
	The remains of the Oath
	Vague echoes of a day of midnight
	The advent of that which never was
	The coming of a man from the grave.
	Still a temple stands
	And a star shines.
	Unceasingly, those who can not be one
	Exchange their rings
	In an arched world
	Exhausted by the division
	The stale principle of stellar times.
	A ford alike
	Between the crimson rivers
	Carrying along their murky waters
	Countless extinct cradles.
	Merely a glance ahead
	Resonates the wailing of flowers
	Under such a suffocating heat
	That men entered into gestation
	You hold a palimpsest of dolour
	Once forgotten that the fall
	Is our fall.
	That death is no channel
	Anymore to rejoin the clay
	of a fractioned God.
	The act of a free man
	Connected to the balance of the world
	Projects itself into the infinite
	But the fracture
	Its ontological ballast
	The dispersion and the overcoming
	Bring a harvest of increasing conflict
	A descending spiral of splinters
	Lacerating the meridians.
	The temple stands
	Its walls a prison
	For the Katechon
	While the plowshare grates
	On the crystal hard and vivid tear
	And blood pours from the furrows
	While the star shines high
	No place to cover from
	Its rotten light
	Ho
	sanna
	Ho
	san
	na
	Ho
	san
	n
	a

	nbsp Le verdict ne vient pas d' un coup, le processus luim me se transforme petit à petit en verdict. nbsp
	In a place beyond all resistance
	Devouring the roots of the bush of fire
	Forsaken even by the crows
	The dream of the abortion of Babylon shivers
	And stuttering words
	As mere echoes in the desert
	Vanish in those lower spheres
	Where shame is unknown.
	It is a vain Earth.
	A vision, final, of deceit.
	There can be no refuge
	In this grotesque liquid flowing
	Where shapes melt into each other
	Where cause becomes consequence.
	To err with the insane
	In hostile immensities
	How legitimate is the faith into despair nbsp?
	A bond of hallowed essence
	between all that pulsates
	it is the primeval degradation
	the erosion, the crumbling,
	the everlasting scission.
	It is disturbance and anxiety
	As absolutes,
	for the world is becoming.
	Still, a temple stands
	And a star shines.
	The slopes slaver pus
	Towards the skies and the thorn
	Courts the wound.
	The sun of dolour shines nbsp:
	They enter in its brilliance
	Those who are divided
	With their dazzled mouths,
	The eerie ray of exile
	Shall be their guide.
	Scattered they walk towards
	The incestuous womb.
	The fertile womb of two
	And three and all.
	The weight of these bodies
	In the shallow waters
	Shatters the poise.
	There is a tear of fire
	In the sky of the worlds.
	There is a tear of fire
	And your tongue of light
	Caressed by the silent leprosy
	Of your palate
	Whispers about the gulch of lies
	The tranquil occupation of agony
	The dire liquors of a massgrave
	And the perilous pedagogy of the abyss.
	We went to the through, Lord.
	We went bend and convulsed.
	We saw blood, Lord. It was glittering.
	You dispensed it and we drank it.
	We saw your image.
	The gap of our eyes and mouths is void.
	We went bent and convulsed.
	It broke us and dissolved us.
	Liable for the core of the origins
	There remains a pulsating debt
	Radiant in its multiple scissions
	It stands between the mother
	And her repudiated child
	Behind the hand that murders
	And amid attempts of reconciliation.
	The dispersion of woe on a vain Earth
	Is done with equity.
	The task to be achieved, human vocation
	Is to become intensely mortal
	Not to shrink back
	Before the voices
	coming from the gallows tree
	A work making increasing sense
	By its lack of sense
	In the history of times there is
	But the truth of bones and dust.
	Thinly grinded to white powder
	In the mill of fragmentation
	You give it to brothers and sisters
	The remains of the Oath
	Vague echoes of a day of midnight
	The advent of that which never was
	The coming of a man from the grave.
	Still a temple stands
	And a star shines.
	Unceasingly, those who can not be one
	Exchange their rings
	In an arched world
	Exhausted by the division
	The stale principle of stellar times.
	A ford alike
	Between the crimson rivers
	Carrying along their murky waters
	Countless extinct cradles.
	Merely a glance ahead
	Resonates the wailing of flowers
	Under such a suffocating heat
	That men entered into gestation
	You hold a palimpsest of dolour
	Once forgotten that the fall
	Is our fall.
	That death is no channel
	Anymore to rejoin the clay
	of a fractioned God.
	The act of a free man
	Connected to the balance of the world
	Projects itself into the infinite
	But the fracture
	Its ontological ballast
	The dispersion and the overcoming
	Bring a harvest of increasing conflict
	A descending spiral of splinters
	Lacerating the meridians.
	The temple stands
	Its walls a prison
	For the Katechon
	While the plowshare grates
	On the crystal hard and vivid tear
	And blood pours from the furrows
	While the star shines high
	No place to cover from
	Its rotten light
	Ho
	sanna
	Ho
	san
	na
	Ho
	san
	n
	a

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