1. |
Sin Cannon
03:59
|
|||
|
Hammer of Satan.
Artillery cracks the earth.
A miasma of death-fog gasses.
Corpse eating vermin crawl over dead masses.
Concussion upon concussion.
every boom splits the skull.
Mindless amid the red haze of battle.
Skeletons in frenzy to a gunfire death-rattle.
Sin cannon.
Weapon of might.
Sin cannon.
Splitting the night.
Sin cannon.
Hordes of evil march forward to extinguish the light.
Knights of the Devil’s inquisition.
Choirs of the croaking dead, march on.
With weapons of hellish precision.
Utter completion of an unholy mission.
Sin cannon.
Weapon of might.
Sin cannon.
Splitting the night.
Sin cannon.
Visual torture to behold.
The satanic war machine, reaper of souls.
Reaper of souls.
Visual torture to behold.
Weapon of might.
Sin cannon.
|
||||
2. |
Nameless Death
04:00
|
|||
|
The hunt underway.
The last fires are smothered.
No trace of their presence was ever discovered.
Possessed by a frenzy.
Wild and untamed.
Each is a shadow and all are unnamed.
Making ruin of the cross.
Reaving and raping and killing all in sight.
Burning and tearing the throat from the night.
The priests in the church, are dragged to the street.
Gagged with intestines and hung by their feet.
Children are beaten and burned at the stake.
Pitiless slaughter for Satan's sake.
The screams go unheard, so remote the location.
A frenzy of unwilling blood donation.
The church bells are rung with the bishop's head.
The flesh is consumed from the newly dead.
The village once basking in heavenly light.
Now laden with death, a moonlit ritual site.
Cult of Osiris.
Archaic offerings to the gods of Sumeria.
Blood drinking disciples of Hecate.
Puppets to a hidden and unfathomable will.
Multitudes called to rot.
Nameless death.
Brought upon the living.
Houses burned.
Children fed to dogs.
The blood red eyes of the faithless.
Faithless even unto death.
Crying blasphemies to the heavens.
Hacking throats from Christian necks.
Even heaven burns at their torches.
Nothing pure survived the night.
Nameless death upon the living.
In the name of Satan's might.
A feast for the birds.
Is all that remains.
When morning drags up the feeble sun by its chains.
The storm has subsided.
From this empty place.
Rumbling ever onward, never loosing its pace.
Making ruin of the cross.
|
||||
3. |
Satan Beckons
03:37
|
|||
|
Tumbling, rambling fool.
Sire of human bred with mule.
Bastard child of lust, the devil’s fuel.
You will be forever marked as a fool.
Trundling, rumbling hell.
Partake of the necronomic spell.
Hear the festering, blistering bells.
Calling you irresistibly toward hell.
Hear the call of the fire.
Of living you find yourself tired.
While all else call you a liar.
Satan beckons you with fire.
In this you have little choice.
Scorn them with your weakening voice.
Marr them with chain, strap and hoist.
You see you have no other choice.
Chant these infatuating words.
Scorch these invigorating herbs.
The key to new life and new worlds.
Lies within these blasphemous words.
These words of prophecy and fate.
These words of debilitating hate.
These words that will open the gates.
These words that have sealed your fate.
In hell you find only suffering and pain.
None of the freedom you thought you would gain.
Suffering trials and torments again and again.
In this universe of unendurable and unending pain.
O fool, thou succumbed to this promise of life.
A cruel jest shrouded in malignance and strife.
Pulled into a world where maliciousness runs rife.
Where demons and fiends molest what remains of your life.
Too stupid, too eager.
You're trapped now, you sinner.
O fool, you suffer.
In hell, you suffer.
Suffering in hell.
In hell.
|
||||
4. |
Cursed Necro Threnody
04:36
|
|||
|
Atop the hill of pined tree, the necromancers' melody.
How foul the tune of grimness be,
That cursed necro-threnody…
The wolves all howl, at the pallid face,
Of the grim n’ mighty moon.
Through the fog of a northern wood,
Creeps a sickly tune.
The villagers all run and hide, in their hovels and their mounds.
The beasts begin to screech and fight, at the wretched unholy sounds.
The necromancers play their dirge,
On their fiddles and their drums.
One among them plays a lute,
Threaded with Christian tongues.
Atop the skulls of Christian kings,
They trod and stomp and dance.
The severed heads of infants,
Skewered upon a lance.
The virgin mother is split apart,
Necro-fucked to death.
Curse thy fathers wretched name, in thy last pathetic breath!”
The tune, it builds into a frenzy.
Whipping up the northern wind.
An unholy necro-hurricane .
Of sinful sinnings sinned!
“Lo and behold, the works of god are dashed upon the rocks”
The pagan, satanic necro-cunts pull out their northern cocks!
No hail Mary, no blessed be,
In the necromancers' cacophony.
|
||||
5. |
The Valley Of Flesh
03:37
|
|||
|
I went in. I went walking into the valley of flesh.
The smell was strong. I smelt the odour, the odour of death.
It was dark. So dark all I could see was my misty breath.
It was quiet. Almost silent but for my soft footsteps.
Why did I go? Why am I here alone? Alone and afraid.
The outcome. The damn result of stupid choices I’ve made.
Here I am. Now here I am even though I don’t know why.
Here I end. Now here my life ends ‘cause I’m going to die.
Now the sun, the sun comes out and I see where I am walking.
I don’t see much but I hear people, they’re talking.
They’re talking ‘bout me, I’m the one they are stalking.
I can’t, I can’t go back now I just gotta keep walking on.
The sunlight filters through a roof of clouds, shining barely at all.
My eyes see figures glowing dimly on valley walls.
Bodies line the embankments between bleeding waterfalls.
I know I’m gonna join them soon because I’ve heard the call.
In the valley of flesh, that’s where you go to die.
When you hear, hear the call. When you know it’s your time.
I know it’s, know it’s hard, hard for me to justify.
But that’s the way it is so you can just go ahead and cry.
The valley of flesh is where you die.
This canyon of corpses ain’t a lie.
Not one of these bodies is alive.
In the valley of flesh, where you die.
|
||||
6. |
||||
|
For nothing.
For nothing.
For the familiar presence of nothing.
Yearning for the senseless submersion of nothing.
From the lights to the blaze.
I can't fucking wait to get away.
Holding fast to the ultimate promise of nothing.
Your existence is a fucking chore to me.
So self important that you cant see the rot.
There is no cancer more wasting than certainty.
This endless echoing of gratification will be the death of me!
From the lights to the blaze.
I can't wait to get away.
From the dream to the fever.
Strangling the hope out of every believer.
From the lights to the blaze .
From the desperation of the dying.
Can't bare this malaise.
Can't wait to get away.
What makes you think you have anything of worth to say to me?
I've heard it all before, you cunt! I keep my own company.
From the lights to the blaze.
Every night and every day.
Can't wait to get away.
Can't fucking wait to get away.
From the lights to the blaze.
From the lights to the blaze.
From the lights to the blaze.
Can't wait to get away.
|
||||
7. |
Gates Of Hell
04:13
|
|||
|
I fuck for Satan.
By the sign of the burning cross.
I live by pure will to hate.
I follow the phosphorescence.
I follow the Sulphurous fumes.
I arrive stinking at the gates.
Gates of hell.
Fuck!
In the bottomless pit of hellfire.
I have gained eternal life.
Now by Satan's grace.
I have crossed the threshold to the gates.
Gates of hell.
I fuck for Satan.
I vomit sin.
Dripping with pestilence.
I arrive banging on the gates.
Gates of hell.
|
||||
If you like Trenches, you may also like:
Coagulating Darkness
by Hellripper
supported by 8 fans who also own “Trenches”
Pretty much the best Black/Speed Metal I've listened to since I learned about Evil Invaders and Vulture. Everything you'd love to be reminded of about this musical era is there. The influences are what you'd expect too: Motörhead, Venom, Bathory, early Slayer, Celtic Frost; aggressive vocals, tortured guitar solos, pounding drums; everything is fast, clear and still a little grimy, but without reverb cranked up to the max. Amazing band, amazing album.
go to album
MASS EXTINCTION [DEMO]
by GUTLESS
supported by 7 fans who also own “Trenches”
This is so pleasant it made me break my "no demos" rule!
go to album
Ornuthi Thalassa
by Serpent Column
supported by 6 fans who also own “Trenches”
Worth the money though I’ve had this for years on Apple Music because fuck that broken ass glitchy piece of shit.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Mar 29, 2024
go to album
Echoes Of The Devil's Den
by Terminal Nation
Marauding blackened death metal sporting a variety of guest vocalists and a sense of impending doom.
go to album
Chytridiomycosis Relinquished
by Slimelord
Inspired by a frog-eating fungus, the UK death metal outfit's debut is complex and invigorating.
go to album
supported by 6 fans who also own “Trenches”
Литоургиiа réussit l'impensable : faire entrer le black metal dans l'église orthodoxe. S'il y a une dimension dramaturgique (indissociable de tout office religieux), Литоургиiа reste profond, solennel et touche le sublime. Après la sortie de cet album a lieu un Grand Schisme et un larcin : Христофор se fait dépouiller de son propre groupe par Барфоломей et Мартин ; tout ce qui reste ici provient de ces deux hérétiques. Suivez la procession de Батюшка ici : https://sphieratz.bandcamp.com/album/-
go to album
