Assorted Armament tracks





Cast and enhanced by this overwhelming damnation, caught in destined strides. Dark age of infosumerian might, splendid dawn – blackest night. Oppressors turned to clowns and ridicule this heart – Ancient foes turned legion, before the carnival starts.

For you are… Shackled and blinded and systematized, Goated, demoted, controlled. I want you obscured obscured and radicalized, free as only the abysmally enrolled.

Grand dominion Nine. Midst correlations, rhymes, millennia. As the world of darkness is greater, so also the sound of our thunder.

I speak not of dreams but of experience, not of guesses but well-harnessed fact. My priviliges are my vices. Armageddon’s nobility, to be exact. Mankind left behind, there’s a new mercy. Selectiveness again exists. New age, new strides. A new dimension opening wide…


I'm into coining paradigms and sometimes they paradigm me.
Overflows me - whereby they show me.
It's not drugs I want you to see.

I want you to see bloodlines.
I want you to see hierarchy.
I want you to see evolution.
I want you to see yourself Die!

After that I shall speak unto you as any equal.

Weighs as heavily as any matter of the heart
Colors all that I am - I'd be there If it ever starts.
I speak of states of war to battle future famines.

And so I know no shame, I love, I hate, though I am not the same as those I blame, the blinded herds, the insane, the lame, tamed by fame or ruled by name, retained and samed for the green back man now fuck off.. It's all the same.

I want you to see bloodlines.
I want you to see hierarchy.
I want you to see evolution.
I want you to see yourself fuckin' Die!

I want you to see bloodlines.
I want you to see hierarchy.
I want you to see evolution.
I want you to see yourself Die!


Oh, fuck you and your constipaded indignation.
This isn't politicts, it's just spite.
Can't sympathize with your lamenation.
So I'm evil, well, you're fucking right.
Facism's only prudent in the future
your equality has made. Who do you
think will protect on your manufactured

You kneel for shallow shit, you drum up
mediocre lore. Where you are I am not
at home, where you are I wage war.
Long past decline of family, my "good man"
lost in the haze. Breathing will to power,
black music and anti-chstistian tastes.
Contempt for mankind, whether famished
or overabundant. Oh, I might be squandered
like them, but far from as fucking redundant.


Within the whirlwinds of malice the twisted
industrial erotica will prevail. Reaping the
tides of evil’s infrastructure, the plasma-pools
of direct perversion of the soul seems merely
as a dream. – One of complete and utter horror.

Now cradled like an infant in mother’s arms...
The wish I have in mind is euphoric and terrific
regret for not having been a stillborn.
To have been nothing whatsoever.

And I know it’s all psychotic
And I know it’s all in vain
In fact you should be pretty fucking happy
I’m not more than thus insane


Build to this an army of individuals born of the horns.
A hidden spread of ideology. Inserted, awake, tactically forlorn. If you never earn the valour to stand in battle, what of generations? – These your reasons… Our cause the “holiest”,o ur cause all natural force. Our cause the heaviest – The greatest of challenges! With feet on ground, fundamental allegiance solid they shall give sound, the armies of the Void.

Mutual recognition – We will look the same.

We could be that master-army before they even know who to blame. Soar for me my angel, strike far and wide thy wrath. Teach them of valiance in this shallow era made. Stand fast my guardians, never give an inch. Stride forth, my brethren, toward the day of breach. These are our times, this is our future. The providence of the netherrealms peering from our mountains.


Just imagine how degenerate a culture must be when it is threatened to fall by older versions of itself. Like great grand-father beating the supposedly agile youth. Upon that persists the cultivation of loyalty, adherence, nations – a flock with no masters – sprawling, stupid determination.

Weak and varied, diverse and averse, plentiful but famished, an epoch must cursed.

When art and the fiction if reality meet, their masses of mercy means nothing! After all, they were “sent” here to Die.

The most shameful epoch in history…


In these our dispersed ranks is not a new light sifting through and spreading. The first grains of this avalanche has the process set in motion. The completion of antithetical values.
For this is the return of gods: The return of those that pray openly on religion (and religious life).

First and foremost I annihilate you:
Religious intellectuals, agnostic skeptics.
Granted that you can fall as all enemies with so short a distance, why not step into my reign?

Never in all history were we nearer the abyss yet but glimpsing the vastness of monsters faced.
Deposited as such, is it not obvious? Our power peaks with our peril. In your collective progress is mirrored.
Not the mastery of the present, nor the praise of the past. Only an ascendant future.

Define providence and yes you do know the scales.
If you're so true then stand to... Hails and nails!

Hails and nails!


The shep don't sense it, all analytical ignorance of man.
A beautiful end of all travesty coming. And we don't even need it, it feeds us naught but the blackest scorn. And so will our judgement stand proud and tall when all mediocrity is all but forlorn. And era for the strong, the proud and damned. The leaders don't feel it, this dead democratic waste. Pitiful boiling reptiles. Too late to make any haste. Grasping for substance in the elusive. If only stupidity was a tangible thing. This grotesque vanity of the collective, from left to right wing.


Ours is the calling of the descendants of a forlorn breed of masters:
A gathering of those that stand in no ranks, a unification of those who's spirits are alien.
A guiding star for those that does not ever follow.
All heirs to virtues, duties and priviliges - our souls might still only whisper to us.

I am such a free spirit, my laughter is wholesome and warm where others weep.
My reaction is pity where others are jealous or angered,
my love carries as much hatred for life and existence as it carries private reverence.
I am too strong to be weak and thus I rest always in the most perilous of circumstances
- that is my duty toward any sentimental emotion! A tough duty, to be sure, one that has lessers beat (and thus defined!) - but what then of my priviliges? - Beyond good and evil.
As close to a god as any man will ever come.

The 19th century echoes the gloom of our faltering golden age, degeneration flourishes in protective illusions where symptoms are made gods unto causes
- anything more elevated is evil and thus a source of real pride.

And thus a source of real pride...

Lo! Behold the last stuttering days of our modern Roman Empire!


Self-consciousness was born, in the mammal kingdom. All illusions of those who mourn, brought asunder, made forlorn.
They created surplus power and rested in degeneration. Lofty doctrines faded out, stagnating mediocre generations. Though I challenged this! I attacked it like a pest!
My virtues heights I reach for. Existential warlust without rest. As my spirit strode the peak of the Iron Mountain a brutal refinement was born. With me I brought those old Northern (K)nightly fountains and all these primate values were torn.

As I ventured down from these ranges, carrying no tablets, points, or goals, feasted with all idolaters. Laughed at their decadent ends unfold. Once bored I returned once more to my old shore, where my equal minorities still soared and mingled.

I shaded with them the news I had in store, in superior splendour they thus lingered.