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The Trve Beast

by Qafsiel

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1.
Sloth 08:17
What lies above is the downmost part of the pit. It’s evident This march through the sad and the lonely path of life is something not everyone can endure. A mocking errand where the pessimist and the realist, standing immovable side by side, bear the burden of candour. For the comfort of a great lie is too delicious to be ignored. Feral thoughts of a sordid feast upon rubbish begin to lurk in the back of your head, just like rats on the edge of starvation. Barging your way to the bottom of the boundless dump that you raised from indefinite visions of Eden, befouled and broken, you stir the garbage above and below. A supper of numbness with the ironic taste of delusion It’s evident Non ti curar di lor ma passa e... behold the heirloom of a simple survival and stray not from the pleasure of a life in denial, you would look in the mirror where the horror of nature resides, fooling yourselves with the facade of a smile Speak not, but look, and pass them by. Right as Pontius Pilate would wash his hands clean, the unwitting cattle will always lack perception when the farmers acuminate the blades. There’s no despair with a cold and barren desert sprawling within. Youthful vigour gone awry as flickering passion fades away, in the dark and leaden night of an enchantment For the comfort of a great lie is too delicious to be ignored and like rats on the edge of starvation, you’ll feast on rubbish again It’s evident Non ti curar di lor ma passa e... behold the heirloom of a simple survival and stray not from the pleasure of a life in denial, you would look in the mirror where the horror of nature resides, fooling yourselves with the facade of a smile.
2.
Greed 09:42
There’s something about the pathetic meaning of existence when everyone has come into life without a purpose. Most of the time is grotesque Each one of you is placed in the right spot of this circus. Arrays of rulers with their whores and their pawns surrounded by swarms of freaks, wasters and charlatans in a turmoil of insanity fighting for supremacy. As if the prestige of the heavier tombstone would matter in the end of this farce. Crawling serpents shedded their skin with scutes and scales of iron as compassion got lost in the bottom of the moat. You are such stuff as infernos are made on and your little life is rounded with pain. Crawling serpents buried their sins Covens of vultures clothed in suits of greed will never cease to binge on the edge of horror. So used to be sustained on a diet of carrion and so addicted to the venom di avidità, they don’t even remember they still can take wing Hordes of ignavi, overcoming their sloth at last, knelt down in worship of the fools For the good laughters have always worked like barbiturates before the flag would wave again Miserable poets, filling their inkwell with hatred harvested from the disgrace of knowledge, dull the thoughts with narcotics for loneliness has got them nothing else left Crawling serpents shedded their skin with scutes and scales of iron as compassion got lost in the bottom of the moat. You are such stuff as infernos are made on and your little life is rounded with pain. Crawling serpents buried their sins
3.
Lust 07:02
Broken dreams, unsorted romance, miscarried outcomes and a frozen layer of dew embedding the grief. Bitter incertitudes in thoughts tear your souls apart. Dumbfounded by the great lie you built up so laboriously, I have observed your sycophantic selves, sent forth into golgotha, consumed by egotism and arrogance with a secret desire of nurture the fantasy of being someone else As the lords, in a state of perpetual nuisance, would blame the servants for garments too tight to fit. They would look at the wonder they’ve built when it collapses hopelessly And you behold the delusion of love for one another as it was anything but a form of self content Broken dreams, unsorted romance, miscarried outcomes and a frozen layer of dew embedding the grief. Bitter incertitudes in thoughts tear your souls apart, I have observed the great lie you’ve built up so disgracefully. Behold the creation of a deception cloaked in leaves of ambrosia, as if it wasn't the mere and pure instinct of blind biological urge to unify matter and spirit together, sowing the seed of a dogma As the lords would teach the servants to desire an existence in gilded cages of solace. Turpi monatti of a delirious philanthropist machine And you behold the delusion of love for one another as it was anything but a form of self content, idiosyncrasy of the game, a shelter for the weak pledge of mutual benefit, assurance for the meek
4.
Envy 03:15
5.
Gluttony 09:05
Since the inception of this feeble charade of magnificence, dressed up with delusion, good manners and pride, you savoured the thrive of your kind. Handwritten books, sermons of old fools, bequeathed the cryptic secrets of ruling. You would learn with claws primed with crimson, and you would prosper, defining the circumstances, infecting the systems like a virus, as you please It’s like running through melodies and words of an endless journey unto the firmament Where each possible rule of nature will shatter and you reach the fingers of the gods Where is the dignity in a world with the greatest guilt of all The shame of an utmost and ordinary lack of coherence as man is god asleep and god is man awake the road to reprobation is all downhill Domine, labia mea aperies et os meum annuntiabit mortem tuam As retribution of each demise, of each innocent lamb crossing the Styx. Minos tail does not bother to forgive. Another moon will pass by, You’ll sit with yellow worn out eyes of gluttony, as if you couldn’t be anything better, as if any of this doesn’t matter for the sake of your greed Filthy, polluted rain and hailstones pouring continuously as the three headed dog looms from above, snarling with his might and echoing through the ashes of your former rues and your everlasting egotism, in the aberrant manifest of a paradox Where is the dignity in a world with the greatest guilt of all The shame of an utmost and ordinary lack of coherence as man is god asleep and god is man awake the road to reprobation is all downhill
6.
Wrath 07:30
Repent ye for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight or suffer the consequences Threats were drawn As if it were imperative As if you couldn't fall deeper There i witnessed a desperate need to belong, hence the foolish grounds to clash each other with mindless faith, just like you would do in every other circumstances. Same Innate, unceasing lust for blood And the claims of righteousness led to warfare, for out of the heart and from within come evil thoughts, murder, theft, false witness and slander. Oh beautiful creatures yet so imperfect, pandemic armageddon, walking the earth Repent Repent for the kingdom of men is near the end Repent for the kingdom of men will fall by your own hand Threats were drawn
7.
Pride 10:06
“Voi eravate il sigillo alla perfezione, pieni di saggezza, di una bellezza perfetta; Eravate come un cherubino dalle ali distese, un protettore. Vi avevamo stabilito, stavate sul monte santo di Dio e camminavate in mezzo a pietre di fuoco. Eravate perfetti nelle vostre vie dal giorno in cui foste creati, finché non si trovò in voi l’iniquità. Per l'abbondanza del vostro commercio, tutto in voi si riempi di violenza, e peccaste; perciò vi cacciai via, come un profano, dal monte di Dio e vi feci sparire, di mezzo alle pietre di fuoco. Negli inferi precipito il vostro fasto e la musica delle vostre arpe. Sotto di voi v'è uno strato di marciume, e vostra coltre sono i vermi.” Fire and brimstone were always meant to drop down the curtains on this despicable display, adorned with deceit and misery. Howling jackals, beautifully attired, perched on the ringside seats, as the triumph of your idiocy glowed at the sound of the most delicate melody in the overture They wouldn't stop staring at their shiny gilded clocks, for midnight has never been so close by The sacred fire of the gods has been manufactured and brought down to earth as the evening sun of Atum dusks beyond the horizon of creation leaving crumbs of hope to flicker in the vast gloom of your days How could you possibly care not about anything other than the pale reflection of your tumefied ego As if transcendency was paramount How could you possibly think not of every miracle you’ve been bestowed Brought to naught You are Death, shatterer of worlds, behold the true beast A bright star fell from the sky at the sound of the third angel and poisoned the fountains of waters, bitter as wormwood. Sent not by the lord but by the iniquity of men, gadgets of doom will cover the path of the righteous, with a fleecy shroud of lies. Abashed the devil stood as he felt goodness was nowhere to be found And the courage was lost among the craven coils of mediocrity A feculent strain of celestials has risen among the earthly creatures... behold the true beast How could you possibly care not about anything other than the pale reflection of your tumefied ego As if transcendency was paramount How could you possibly think not of every miracle you’ve been bestowed Brought to naught You are Death, shatterer of worlds, behold the true beast

about

Qafsiel the archangel of solitude and tears, watches the event of the cosmos unfolding... with little interference, but with enormous amounts of loath when it comes to observe humans... despicable beings that miserably soil the gift to be sons of god... for the most.
Beneath each and every lyric of this album resides the screaming judgment of a celestial being, determined to point the finger at what it is... the true beast

credits

released July 11, 2018

Qafsiel - Vocals, Guitars, Bass
Caliban - Drums

All music written, produced, recorded and mixed by Qafsiel at Qstudio
All lyrics written by Qafsiel
Mastered by Tim Turan at Turan audio, Oxford

All artworks handcrafted by Qafsiel
Thanks to Laura ed Enrico for additional help in visual art

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Qafsiel Milan, Italy

One man black metal project based in Milan, Italy

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