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The Suns of Perdition - Chapter II: Render Unto Eden

by PANZERFAUST

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    Merch for Chapter II 'Render Unto Eden' with album design on the front and quote on the back: "In great denial, All life bends towards the light".

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    'Render Unto Eden' shirt with album design on the front and quote on the back: "In great denial,
    All life bends towards the light". Printed on quality 190g B&C shirts or Gildan. Soft & comfortable, fair wear textiles.

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1.
"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.“ - Aeschylus In great denial, When they shuffle off this mortal coil, In great denial, Through the dark and bloody ground. In great denial, Sworn to sing the corrupter‘s din, In great denial. And with hubris comes the fall, Drifting across the rippling wall, On the dark and bloody ground, Came to me: This rock for which I‘m bound, the wind I fear won‘t hear me, And alas, in a crippling sway, All life bent towards the light. In great denial, Cursed the land of the ploughman‘s toil, In great denial, In flood and in famine. In great denial, He too sings the corrupter‘s din, In great denial. And with hubris comes the fall, Drifting across the rippling wall, On the dark and bloody ground, came to me on the rock I‘m bound: The wind I fear won‘t hear me, The ploughmen will bless his toil. And alas, in a crippling sway, All life bent towards the light. Болью, болью Дышит тело мое Обреченно Пашем полотно черно. Иссохли воды Под палящим зноем Плоть истерзанну Поим гноем рваных мозолей. Зри! Мы ползем змеей по усопшему телу Земли! В мучениях вечных Тащим камень тартара Замри! Во мраке надежды Вечно жаждущей света Мы две змеи На извечной тропе Круговой колеи! Круговой колеи… ENGLISH TRANSLATION With pain, with pain My body still breathes, So fatefully, We plough the canvas of black. Waters ’re dried up Under the scorching sun, Our worn-out flesh is drunk with the pus of our torn corns. Behold! We crawl like a snake over the mortal remains Of the earth! Suffering over and over, We’re dragging Tartarus’ stone. Hold still! In the darkness of hope Striving for ever – towards the light! We ‘re two snakes On the eternal path Of a circular track! Of a circular track...
2.
“The God who made iron grow did not need slaves.“ A maniacal forge seeds the tempter and triangulates the sin, the madness and the fury. Where one abandons all hope. At a funeral for the sun; They will dement the divide. Into a world of sin, of shit - in schism - the man will seek the angel at the bottomless pit. Vanquished ground, From birth till rigor mortis, The vultures damn the hive to the wreaking hole Descension bound, Where lust defines the order, Till the mass grave that sends the defeated man to the madhouse. And a testament to his ruin; Absent the fruits of patient toil He will never lick the wounds This disease heightens the senses In a world of sin, of shit - but in schism - One gets harder in time. And if destruction be our lot, be it the glory of the slaves. Vanquished ground, From birth till rigor mortis, The vultures damn the hive to the wreaking hole Descension bound, Where lust defines the order, Voidward shines the suns of perdition. Yetzer Hara - Yetzer Hara - Yetzer Hara Victor or vanquished, What defines loss? Twisted in irony; Encroaching manifest destiny. The sick divine glory, [In] infinitesimal trappings Weaponize the ages. The Faustian pact is all that the ground may give back. And bound by it‘s own gaze, was lost and all that the sun made was cast on their iron graves.
3.
Areopagitica 07:34
Madness makes a man, and [it is] what breaks him, Like a shadow unto which no light may ever shine. Time flees, though eternity dwells, Yet “the very truth he holds becomes his heresy.” A most righteous act of rebellion, By right of twisted virtue, The sun is not so bright to itself as to those on whom it shines Time flees, though eternity dwells Yet “the very truth he holds becomes his heresy.” The just war must be decided, but the chorus will not come. And cast in their crooked smiles is narcissism masking as virtue Some truths are worth it for their own sake, But they will cannibalize their own before they let the heretic be heard. You may never cheat this mountain. The just war must be decided, but the chorus will not come. And cast in their crooked smiles is narcissism masking as virtue Some truths are worth it for their own sake, But they will cannibalize their own before they let the heretic be heard.
4.
Man - like earth - both flower and decay. Tyrants and men of ideals feign the black-eyed children. 'Till plight and injustice wakes this earth To galvanize them to sacrifice and abnegation; ripe are the fools and the damned who have longed for a promised land. In the heap of temptations, hope would mark the ruins. "The tree of knowledge is not that of life.“ And so he grinds his own hands, Where there was never justice for all. There is a stain of perspective in those expiring eyes. When he mines his own helm, And serves for the greater glory. [And now they] arm the angels, Bedevilled by our lesser judgment. And another man will die; It is practically what he is here for. And they will fly their flags at half mast As if this would imply justice. Never pitied, they will make this mistake again. And again - the damned deny the ages, and the greatest of ironies: Our enlightenment would rise; And with it, the vileness of man. "The tree of knowledge is not that of life.“ And so he grinds his own hands, Where there was never justice for all. There is a stain of perspective in those expiring eyes. When he mines his own helm, And dies for the greater glory. It is seldom the days in the dark, When he defines his own hell. But in the violent wake of the wise Where the rabid dog dies. Taring at the roots, where the rats beckon asunder. "Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler; and the noisome pestilence.“ But men are left disturbed, yet again. It is seldom the days in the dark, When he defines his own hell. But in the rotted wake of the light, Where the parasite dies. There is no redemption arc in the record of eternal truths. Just an endless sequence of cross-currents to the terminus of all paradises lost.
5.
"The words of one of my favourite poets, Ernest Dowson are quite often with me, "Non sum qualis eram / I‘m not as I was.“ And though I know as well as you do that there is no point in arguing about the actual date or time of departure because I‘d like to think there would be no good time - I hope you‘ll agree with that. Something I urgently thought I ought to do or say - and one mustn‘t supine or give into self-pity about that, but at this moment I have to say, I feel very envious of someone who is young and actively starting out in this argument. In the meantime, we have the same job we‘ve always had; which is to say - as thinking people and as humans - that there are no final solutions, there is no absolute truth, there is no supreme leader, there is no totalitarian solution that says if you will just give up your freedom of inquiry - if you will just give up - if you will simply abandon your critical faculties, a world of idiotic bliss can be yours. We have to begin by repudiating all such claims; grand rabbis, chief ayatollahs, infallible popes, the pedlars of surrogate and mutant quasi-political religion and worship; the dear leader, the great leader, we have no need of any of this. And looking at them and their record, and the pathos of their supporters, I realize that it is they who are the grand impostors, and my own imposture this evening was mulled by comparison. Thank you very much.“ - The Last public speech by Christopher Hitchens (1949-2011) There is a guilt reserved for that fearful day, In great denial, I will say no more. I will reserve that shame for the thieves and whores, In great denial, I will say no more. There is a silence that comes eventually, In great denial, I will say no more. There is no longer a reason to laugh, But what do you have to lose when you’re pissing into the wind?

credits

released August 28, 2020

All music written by Panzerfaust.
All lyrics written by Brock ‘Kaizer’ Van Dijk unless otherwise noted.

Guest vocals and lyrics on 'Promethean Fire' written and performed by Maria “Masha” Arkhipova (Arkona).

Russian to English translation by Sergey Pavlov
Produced by Greg Dawson at BWC Studios, Kingston, ON. Canada
Mastered by Sergei Lazar at CDM Records, Moscow, Russia.

Original illustrations created by Kaethe Kollwitz.
Layout manifested by Valkenstijn.

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PANZERFAUST Toronto, Ontario

Panzerfaust is the boot stamping on a human face forever.

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