VADER
Fear Of Napalm
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- VADER
- Carnal
Текст песни VADER - Carnal
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The person of Austin Osman Spare (1888-1956) is a splendid example of misunderstood and forgotten genius. Deserving the fame of Beardsley, he is now almost unknown outside the occult scene. Trained in ceremonial magic under A. Crowley, he later created his own ZOS KIA CULTUS, which can be called "urban shamanism". The famous sigilization, some Chaos Magick principles, etc. bear his influence. Besides many breath-taking art pieces of painting he left several books where the passion of Blake meets Nietzsche's harshness.
I tasted the fever of Your existence
seems like cold grain to my mouth
I stand aside, I stay away
transmuting my quicksilver blood
KIA - that I may see
ZOS - that I may touch
Источник https://alllyr.ru/song22584
insipid are the describing words
the self needs no vulgar praise
This worship has no supplications
my rite is to live and do
things naked, pure, of honest lust
the throbbing vortex feeds on it all
Sleep is the best of possible prayers
the winged eyes are blessed to see
transpierced hymens my lust adores
Many images yet one raw flesh
animal steps I love to tread
an ideal point where Time is Space
memory giant sores this journey must heal
The person of Austin Osman Spare (1888-1956) is a splendid example of misunderstood and forgotten genius. Deserving the fame of Beardsley, he is now almost unknown outside the occult scene. Trained in ceremonial magic under A. Crowley, he later created his own ZOS KIA CULTUS, which can be called "urban shamanism". The famous sigilization, some Chaos Magick principles, etc. bear his influence. Besides many breath-taking art pieces of painting he left several books where the passion of Blake meets Nietzsche's harshness.
I tasted the fever of Your existence
seems like cold grain to my mouth
I stand aside, I stay away
transmuting my quicksilver blood
KIA - that I may see
ZOS - that I may touch
Источник https://alllyr.ru/song22584
insipid are the describing words
the self needs no vulgar praise
This worship has no supplications
my rite is to live and do
things naked, pure, of honest lust
the throbbing vortex feeds on it all
Sleep is the best of possible prayers
the winged eyes are blessed to see
transpierced hymens my lust adores
Many images yet one raw flesh
animal steps I love to tread
an ideal point where Time is Space
memory giant sores this journey must heal
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