Iconoclast lyrics

Where Angels Have Fallen


Crimson tears summon me to the eclipse of my death
For the reckoning of my sins I shall pledge
A black veil of emotionless silence begs to clothe me
Through the halls of spiritual existence
I crawl on this journey again

On wings of fire, the call of judgement rides
In the chalice of eternal void I seek to hide
Into the infinite abyss of darkness I am to sleep
In mourning for the last straws of life, I weep

Desolate, I pray for the drawing sun
The throne of light remains concealed
Alone, tied in these chains of solitude
I cannot feel

Where angels have fallen
My wailing soul is laid to rest
The tombstone is chosen
A cauldron for my new quest

What is this empty shell withered by the winter rains?
Not one drop of drying blood, nor the pleasure of pain
Beyond my grave I hear the dying fall
To their lifeless souls I call
I wait for agonized centuries to no avail
An infernal sleep that revives my claim

In death, I died, where no white saviour came

Betrayed by the thousand year faith
Embalmed in this forbidden dream
Solitary I shudder in the chill of stillness
My body still yearns for its bloodstream

… And yet I call His name this last time

Repeat chorus


Via Crucis (The Way of the Cross)


I walk through barren corridors glistening
With the stench of a promised salvation
This sultry wilderness mourns
The grieving of a mother’s supplication

Seraphic overtures inebriated
By the suffering of aeons of compromise
Here he is legion, heir-apparent to Apollyon’s throne
Breathing the progeny of all lies

Via Crucis (The way of the cross)
My kingdom has come
Arcana lucis (arcane light)
Thy will be done

A ressurection conjured on altars of impunity
Scars of betrayal shrouded in a sanctimonious reliquary
Wine-made-incarnate in a chalice of iniquity
Graven effigies accolade a deception
Enshrined in consanguinity

As the twilight sleeps, I hear the
resuscitation of a withering womb
Christendom weeps, for the child of a virginal prostitution
Ascetic icons seep with the blood of dismal martyrdom
Subjugator of the meek, the spirit of man fades
in the eyes of the distant kingdom

Serpent hordes summon the cinnamon king
Venerating the vestiges of the lonesome crown
Babylon whores writhing in ecstasy
Procreating the seven seals of prophecy



A Martyr’s Prayer


This is my body; this is my blood

From these dying whispers of a dying life
I weave the Redeemer’s darkest dream,
A wish to conceal the promise of fate
Shall I ever escape what is deemed?

Father, spare me from the harshness of reality
Shall a crown of thorns be my cruel destiny?

A pilgrimage through the dawn of creation
A blessed sojourn for the meaning of salvation
I gaze through the face of death
For they shall know me – the Redeemer

They say I hold the key of the eternal presence
A prophet that defies the world’s futile essence
I am the offering that mankind shall forever bequeath
A karmic fortune that cannot ever be retrieved

The words of wisdom shall be forged
From the bones of my weakened body
I long to rebuke the blood spilled through
The ages of humanity’s story

Father forgive them,
For they do not know what they are doing

My God why have you forsaken me?
Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit



Wither the Hour


This resurrected withering pain
Deafening my silence
A haunting re-visited
Weakening my resilience

Maelstroms of indignity
Forged in hate
Tribal steel
Carving your fate (carve your fate)

… Wither the Hour

Instinctual attrition
A path through the sublime
Caress your slumber
Savour the taste of the pilgrim’s grime

Sacrificial masque
Twilight of the virginal dawn
Blood enthroned
Anonymity, forever forlorn
(Blood enthroned)

A vortex so impure
Slowly murdering my inner sanctum
Dreams so obscure
Brandishing the end of my Elysium

The wounds of my nemesis
A testimony to a lasting hunger
I awaken alone in the cusp of the untamed primal hunter
Ceremonies of impulse
Re-birth of a deafening humanity
This art of retribution
Reprisal for lost aeons of subtlety
Lost aeons of subtlety