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Lyrics
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From:
Morituri Te Salutant
FinalMuzik
2004
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I am a Whore
by Angelo Visone
I am a Whore with a sword made of sperm and blood and
tears.
I’m lying on the wet grass of the Black Garden of Eden.
I curse to the sky all my sorrow.
I’ll cut off my fingers.
I’ll close all my senses.
And with nails in my ears and blades on my mouth
I’ll be down on my knees in front of your throne made of blood and
shit.
And I’ll suck your cock till you cry loud. I’ll fuck your
ass till you die.
Because you are my Lord of the Great Sorrow and Emptiness and I hate you!
I’m very close to cry for the joy to see you die and I smile at
your pale aimless face.
A ray of light rises from my ass-hole.
I am a Saint Whore with a sword that leads the skyes.
You fell down and I sit on the throne that once was yours up in the cold
sky with stars and clouds by my side.
I am the God of Nothing at last!
Angels are all dead.
The era of the Evil has begun.
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Hidden
by Angelo Visone
I remember when I ate myself.
The sun was shining bright.
I felt sore all over
but I kept on chewing my flesh.
Hidden I stay among my remains.
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My Dreary Woe
by Angelo Visone
My dreary woe.
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I miei Amori (an ode to P.P.P.)
by Pier Paolo Pasolini
(taken from “Le Belle Bandiere”)
(…) e...
i miei amori di pura sensualità,
replicati nelle valli sacre della libidine,
sadica, masochista, i calzoni
con la loro sacca tiepida
dove è segnato il destino di un uomo
– sono atti che io compio solo
in mezzo al mare stupendamente sconvolto (…)
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A Dead Deer
by Angelo Visone
Last night I saw a
deer beneath the icy flow.
He looked directly into my eyes.
He smiled at me
and said something I could not understand
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From:
FEY
FinalMuzik
2006
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La Ballata
degli Impiccati
by Fabrizio De Andre’
Tutti morimo a stento
ingoiando l'ultima voce
tirando calci al vento
vedemmo sfumar la luce.
L'urlo travolse il sole
l'aria divenne stretta
cristalli di parole
l'ultima bestemmia detta.
(...)
Coltiviamo per tutti un rancore
che ha l'odore del sangue rappreso
cio' che allora chiamamo dolore
e' soltanto un discorso sospeso.
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(Viduy)
by Alexander Penn
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The Wild Ass
by Alys Cusack
The secret of the
House of Set
Is hidden in my sevenfold veil;
For I am he that doth beget
The Rood, and bear the Holy Graal.
Yet is my manhood woman-frail,
Barren my motherhood. They now
Shall men my mystic mountain scale?
These ram's-horn thumbs jut from my brow
To push them to the miry slough
Wherein the foes of Set are caught.
Come, let us pluck the Golden Bough
From the brave Tree of life and thought!
Who heareth naught, he heedeth naught.
Come, we are safely housed and shrined
Where subtler images are wrought
Than boast the treasuries of Mind!
The secret of the House of Set.
As a poor pilgrim clambering
Toils on the slopes, so I to get
Halidom for my lord the King.
Faintly and feebly murmuring
I uttered the mysterious runes,
And bade my body's sleekness sing
Silky, satanic, subtle tunes.
Was he not holy? Milk of moons
Were not so pallid as his cheek,
And roses of a million Junes
His mouth left livid. So I seek
In all God's seas a tiny creek
Wherein to moor my shallop. Nay!
He is a mountain, chill with bleak
Stark winds of innocence astray!
The fearful passion sweeps me away.
So with a passionate thrill of fear
I creep --- like shadows across Day!
Like Winter on the expended year! ---
From those cold feet, a frozen meer,
To those cold knees, a lost lagoon,
To that wild woodland, strangely near
To the lone tower that tops the moon!
Verily and Amen! Unhewn
The great grim forest menaces.
What gardener may dare to prune
Those woods to build me palaces?
So climb, each ledge an infinite stress,
Lustful as light, as lechery loth,
From the brutality of Besz
To the plumed perjury of Thoth!
I held him holy. Holier both
Than aught the bearers of the bier,
Thoum-aesh-neith and Auramoth,
Saw in the hiding-house of fear.
The sorceries that span the sphere,
The spells that harness star and sun,
I whispered in his siren ear ---
Once, twice, and thrice for every one!
Once, twice, and thrice --- the boon's begun!
With four and five and six it stirs:
With seven the druid dance is done,
And Death drives home his silver spurs!
Then --- the last leap. What crowning curse
Can bid that cup of curses brim?
How may God's maniac ministers
Lash the last languor out of Him?
I did it. How? So great and grim
The Gods are, I may never guess.
Suffice it, on his mouth I swim
A drowning dastard. The caress
Wakes the lost life. I see him dress
The godhead. Up he bounds and brays: ---
The wild ass of the wilderness,
The soul that sees, the soul that slays!
Inhabit the untrodden ways;
Set! Thou my god and I thy priest,
Thy temple hidden in the haze
Of deserts death to god or beast!
Thou who art both shalt foin and feast
With me who am both, thy hate's co-heir,
Lord of the West and of the East ---
The scorpion's hole, the lion's lair!
I kissed his mouth --- sublime despair!
Our souls were one; our bodies met ---
Yea! darkness cover everywhere
The secret of the House of Set!
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