Shab - 2005 - From The Book Obscure Written
The Awakening

hear my voice
I am the book obscure written
I talk about the secrets of the dark
my pages embraced much crystal tears
and shrouded much brains of obscure
I talk about the grim secluded hordes
far beyond the credos of anti-human
I talk about the anti-world
and the feelings of the true occult souls
darkness and the religion
I afraid
I see the times that darkness will be a religion
but I talk about anti-religion
and you, who are reading me
burn me !
after you feel my aphotic feelings
don't tell to anyone about my words
and remind me later
don't forget your master, my creator
his soul is burning in the gray flames
in the darkest side of the dark
he was the creator of thousands of books
obscure, black and bloodwritten
I am his last messenger in your cold hands
I have his cold in my body
and I feel his pains of his burning
but he burns gray
in the darkening forest of his darkest world
he never seen the sunrise
moonlight and the stars was his dream
his last desire was the burning in the golden flames
but now, he burns gray with his sacred desires
so read me now
and feel my feelings
I want to burning, too
and I wish this golden flames be gray
like my master and your future's creator
and now, I am ready to release my soul
full of the secrets of the dark
so read me now

True Silent Dying

the falling all of nature and grim burning skies of dark
and then rising of the darkness in my kingdom from the night
misanthropic holy sadness makes the unholy tears of dreams
makes the mountains as the stone and the forests as a tree
true ruinous stroms are come in the landscapes of the dark
painful dying of the owls I hear it out from the dark
the sky is burning gray and the stars are darken away
disintegrate moon on sky has the last shining but gray
the tired tearing voices, many cages lost the keys
prisoners in the prisons, and the prisons are their creeds
oh, the morbid castels and cathedrals are the elder ruins like selves
I feel here is so cold, colder than the colds of flames
wrathful storms desolates trees from the forests to the deeps
the deeper and the deeper than the deeps of abyssic griefs
the graveyard's stones of tombs are flying on the air
empty graves, even the coffins, is this pure? is this the end?
all the funerals are here, here is no tears from a heart
here is nature, here is forest, here is flames, and here is dark
true reasons of the living on this earth are where to find?
no one needs the world after death and the living in this side
who is god? who is satan? what is reason of the life?
where is hell? where is heaven? where is where the soul can fly?
who is Ihs? who is phrophet? who can change the brain of mine?
what is religion? what is life? what is promise? what is die?
in this coldest darkest corner of the true dark imperials
I'm sitting on my black robe and I'm tearing with the pride
ah, I see a funeral, the funeral of the brains
but no one feels this dying, true silent dying of my brain

Transilvanian Hunger

transilvanian hunger soul... cold
your hands are cruel to haunt, to haunt
the mountains are cold so... cold
careful pale forever at night
take me
can't you feel the call
embrace me eternally in your daylight slumber
to be draped by the shadow of your morbid palace
ohh, hate living...
the only heat is warm blood
so pure
so cold
transilvanian hunger
hail to the true intense vampires
a story made for divine fulfillment
to be the one's breathing a wind of sorrow
sorrow and fright the dearest katharsis
beautiful evil self to be the morbid count
a part of a pact that is delightfully immortal
feel the call freeze you with the uppermost desire
transilvanian hunger
my mountain is cold
so pure
evil
cold
transilvanian hunger

Against The Life

the pride of mourning meager tree
can stands in the destoryer storms, so grim
but I can not to standing in life
the life reveals myself reflections
so I am a mortal, so life
everlasting murderer of brain
so be dead or like Dead !
so live by painful damnations of life
the living by pride is only for the meager trees
I call you be dead, you can be that meagre tree
standing in storms, who knows the secrets of nature
who knows the naturalism reflections of life
warriors i don't call you to war
I call you just to showing the power of our legion
marching in their skies
and looking to their hatred humanity
to their madding nazarene and mohammedan
even to their god
so be dead warrior like a meagre tree
for a mournful marching on their skies of sin
for looking to their nature or life
so we can living by pride in our mournful darkness
we can following the way against the storms of humanity
and we can march, side by side
against the life

Pure Blackest Metal

dark shrouded gate
by the screaming wind
comes yond the black
goes to castles ruins
bloody lips of him
and bloody neck of mine
rising in the night
from elder ruins again
pure blackest metal
so worship of dark
so wish is fade
here is gray again
dark shrouded gate
bloody lips of him
pure blackest metal
for 24 years
bloody lips of him
tearful eyes of him
destroyer hands of him
to end his Bey.Ma live
just for 24 years
just for fall in dark
just for live in black
just for feel the truth
but lies in sins
but screams with gays
but white in the hearts
and black is just face
Bey.Ma is dying
Bey.Ma is dying
Bey.Ma is dying
Bey.Ma is dying
"arts are not black, now. remember middle ages, 85-97"

Ashen Funeral

in the name of darkness
the wind is screaming, yet
and trees are tearing
ravens are waiting for that horizon never seen
forest is cold and hearts are black
but the love is living in our eyes full of gloat and pine
love is the rag wisdom
love is wisdom allways, at least for us
we forget the light because something is there to live
something is there to fight, to death
silence in our tearing
blackness in our griefs
we forget the nazarene and mohammedan
we choosed our way, truth is there to live
silence in our tearing
blackness in our griefs
and gone is the god of their faith
I'll be forgotten, forgotten in the forest of old
that forgotten forest of dark
the anti-god has rules the world
but what about our faith?
darkness... nothing?
nothingness screams buried me, so deep
philosophies of darkness just rules in the dark
we need the dark
anti-god never makes for us
where is here?
where the god is nothing
where the flowers are gray
where the tears are cold, red
where is there?
where the god is nothing
where the flowers are black
where the tears are cold, black
this is the funeral, I feel
this is the ashen funeral, but where we go?
no where... nothing... darkness

And The Burning

I'm burning gray
there was nothing
and here (the flames) is nothing so
I hope to darkness
no one knows my grave
no one...