Hymn To The Witching Nightsky

Like a cloak of black velvet the night covers the land
Protecting the black welcomes the creatures banished by men
Deathlike silence crawls through the veins of the dark forest
Through the boughs of the trees the blackened nightsky gleems

The knowledge of existance of black magic
Let's them groan expectant
Only some animals are feeling
The omens of the coming witching hour

Floating clouds in the sky give the fullmoonlight a mystic look
After a while two dragonwings are building
The cupola of this magic place
His breath hides the arrival like an opaque fog
Spellfilled the sulphuric air vibrates

A second later witches and warlocks
Are dancing in a circle of burning thoughts
Ancient trees are bordering the mephisto waltz

The devil's eye beyond the forbidden scenery
Is watching over the children of the night
Ecstatic twitched bodies
Are wriggling under stars burning up
Again and again
The horns of propagation are fusing
With the witches wombs

Tonguelike flames are lickering
The hidden points of lust
Breathfountains of the exhausted
Are condensing in the icecold air
Of the witching nightsky

Without any notion
The mankind oversleeps this orgiastic
Celebration

The 12th hour is the term of the demonic procreation
By an eruption of sperm and blood
The eye is shut satisfied

In the 13th hour the new procreated are leaving the protecting shells
All stillborn find their way back into the diabolical throat

Being the essence of the master's existance
By a sign of the sixfingered claw
The witchcraft has been stopped the air is mixed with the smell
Of sexual intercourse and silence

Unable to move
The crowd is waiting
Because a shadow
Is wandering through the rows

Lying on the face of a young witch
The shadow's fingers caress her body
She feels them like a breeze
Between her virgin thighs

Her mouth starts moaning
Until she screams because of her lust
But she still doesn't know
She is screaming her sentence of death

Her body is burning
Until a statue of ash

Is the last evidence of her former existance
By satan's breath the icon breaks up
And a million pieces spread over the ground
Not before this the night discharges
Their children from the devil's service
Until he calls to worship again