CRUEL FORCE - The Rise of Satanic Might CRUEL FORCE - Under the Sign of the Moon
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Dark Ambient, Religious, Avantgarde from Italy
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A picture of virginal death's coffin, soon outcarried by dead as requiem of their others be played residenting in church beyond kingdom, that I believe so long dwelled. Naught I saw of their eyes, nor moving fingers expected be streching bow cross stringless instruments old, neither response, as an essence through paraphrase of traditional divination drenched echoes of speach, which to me returned, even still be, before spoken: "Illi nil nec me quaerentem vana morantur". Behold, I could but, but I saw, and listen at what I believed was suffering, beyond a realm of therein utilized ears, therein that kingdom made use for eyes, as priest morbidly allowed strangely coniunction of dead and alive, in burial. I today believe, there was no pain in their song, but joy, so dark it ought be every man's fear and exstacy, being above all the joy of pain. Their sorrow believed that of those lost, in denial and images defiled, as if they had arrived dry of weeping. Know I'm a dreamer, I can not accentuate more that I am alive and dying a living death believing, and touching, through the search what only is seen in fragments of the unvisual. Reproducing not mine, neither their, for such claim be denial of the heavens. Fearing, even more so, now. As their call was so, and so far away, yet so close, close that it hurt me. This church wherein performed they, strange, for I used to dwell there more often. Guess duty part done. It is no way near the same now, they have gathered so many nowadays, and way more vital, and an orchestra therein frequenting now, even I being part of, but today I fled before they even played, and can not quite remember their song, but it is a new now and I wake up, to again experience hell. These elder, in this vision soon dating years, I know they played the lord a new song. Even then, for still, they do not speak but expressed through words their soon be spreading across the earth, a living death.

Strange, yet in perfect harmony with a custom old; transcended the mortal border give no answer, yet communicate. Noted be that the pulpit was to the right, and that a strange woman amidst it all was in the nearest all time, but we rarely spoke, I think she was alive, or divine. And Ecclesia. The incarnate dead had a minor role, where through perhaps sprung was it all, though guess long since left the building, and dwelled somewhere else, where quest continued or not. This is the requiem heard, I believe to have seen the utopia of every man's funeral. That is Dead in him that is. It was all the time believed to be a duty to communicate it to you. Now finally task accomplished, near two years late though wiser. Mine was humble, hope this their be yours. It was never mine, so praise me not.

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Italy | Dark Ambient, Religious, Avantgarde