Tricking the Gods

Arsis

When the moon becomes a mass for the pentagram,
the rage will swell as night grows bright.
And  it  will  search  for  those  to  brave 
and master the art of bleeding out.
This horrid fiend of the black would sever 
the wings of angels and then save souls.

Hunger will call on the night, Tricking the gods.
My breath, my eye, my air are yours to form into
the shape and the scream.  .  . 

When the moon incants it’s oath to an ancient law, 
the end of man will be his fright.
And even death will cling to this master
Whose stench brings nightmares to the blind.
And the scream of the moon elect. 

Darkness  will  feed  in  their  eyes 
as scream becomes their song.
Darkness  will  feed  in  their  eyes, 
In the night they ’re beyond the fatal. 

Darkness  will  feed  in  their  eyes 
as scream becomes their song.
Darkness  will  feed  in  their  eyes 
In the night they’re beyond the fatal. 

Hunger will call on the night, Tricking the gods.
My breath, my eye, my air are yours. 
I’m formless now.

Run,  run  with  you  dusk  before  it  is  ravaged 
and torn from beneath you.
Curse,  this  curse  of  the  star
Feasting on mortals and tricking the gods.

When  the  moon  becomes  a  mass 
for  the  pentagram,
the rage will swell as night grows bright.
And  it  will  search  for  those  to  brave 
and master the art of bleeding out.

This  horrid  fiend  of  the  black  would  sever 
the wings of angels and your soul.

When  hunger  calls  on  the  night
Your fatal flesh will be too torn for eyes.

Darkness  will  feed  in  their  eyes 
as scream becomes their song.
Darkness  will  feed  in  their  eyes, 
In the night they’re beyond the fatal. 

Darkness  will  feed  in  their  eyes 
as scream becomes their song.
Darkness  will  feed  in  their  eyes 
In the night they’re beyond the fatal.