Scáth Na Déithe - Virulent Providence, Pt. 2

No man nor beast pass meekly this place Feasting not on sight Vision cut and severed Youth, decay, age and waste Terminal grasp on fractured path Beast and man shun truth, abhorrence, dead flesh and soil Lábhraoinn na daoine báis liom Tá na screadach creathnach Ach ta an teanga álainn Imprint of anamnesis Benefaction of dolor With invigorated flesh sour indulgence for guile Suckle the futile nourishment of humiliation Bestowed power of shifting form Suffocate in disfigurement of prostrate intellect Beast hunt beast Sense torment and seek it’s emanation of essence Lowly sentinels biding time in the dark Faceless pursuer unleashed upon reft dominion Thundering horror Consuming terror Howl of hunger Howl of rage Beast flee beast Libation of slaughter and spirit Fall hopeless on bloodied stone Dying fire mirrored in panicked eyes Bewailing transgressed denature of guise The consequence of interference Wrought freely on wretchedness Beast hunt beast Forgotten and alone This scene of shivering death This blessed suffering Seated always at death’s left hand No man nor beast Pass peacefully Feast on youth Decay, age and waste “Tá na bochta so Éireann ag plé leis an ainnise, Buairt is anacair is pianta báis, Leanaí bochta ag béiceadh is ag screadadh gach maidin, Ocras fada orthu is gan dada le fáil. Ní hé Dia a cheap riamh an obair seo, Daoine bochta a chur le fuacht is le fán, Iad a chur sa phoorhouse go dubhach is glas orthu, Lánúineacha pósta is iad scartha go bás.” Lost, lifeless, longing, without you, lifeless, longing, lost