The Shrine of Mad Laughter - Deathspell Omega

God of terror very low dost thou bring us very low hast thou brought us
A sensation of everlasting rot and those frantic wails no it is not a fall into
The abyss the defiance of descent a coronation beyond liberty and slavery
The cry of woe and deliverance exudes a flame evasive as sound and ethe
An instant of collusion with death without hope nor prospect yet it is a
World below and above and in all eternity a gift of fever the wind of death
That sustains the life in me yes the lightness of hovering in permanent
Anguish I dared to borrow those words to articulate them and to savour
Their turpitude as I beheld the shrine of mad laughter.
The limit is crossed with a weary horror：hope seemed a respect which fatigue grants to the necessity of the world.
As if Death was dashed onto the death within a violent thrust stealing the light of the eyes a ray of darkness a negation the bread of bitterness that ignites neither devotion nor fervour resplendent nothingness make all things appear with clarity ruined in the flame of repudiation in the flame of God Interwoven joy and confusion a stabbing confusion asphyxiation from within yet I gained this certitude：malediction degradation sown in me like seeds now belonged to death in harbouring a desire for the hideous I was beckoning to death. Insatiable combustion expand this body is the vessel of grace
The idea of God is pale next to that of perdition but of this I could have no inkling in advance.