Belfegor - The Work Of Destruction

The work of destruction
Has evolved from the seed of my hatred
Poison has penetrated all of human life
Into each deed, each thought
Each dream and desire

The mind of the world, sick and slow
Separeted from itself
The day is dark, the noon is cold
The mind slips into delirium
Never to depart

The demonic webs of suffering
Each tree standing
Carries a dozen of veils
When they grow together
The web becomes a whitened roof
And covers a labyrinth beneath
Where forests stood before in patience
Now there are fields of naked trunks and branches
Dressed in the garland of the web
Afterwards, there are only dry shards
Then, there is only grey swamp

Demons
Their bodies blacker than the deepest shadows
Shine with the reflected light
The shapelessness of chaos of primeval fire
Like large jewels of the giants

The work of destruction has storm-slashed clouds
Now they are raining blood
Suffering breeds uncontrolled fear
And envelops all in the cool, life-safe darkness