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La Mierda De Los Padres

by Sardonic Wrath

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1.
Where the trees are younger than me And the winds whisper softly I stand in the wastelands of wasted years And moorish shrubs thirst for tears Forged ferric forests fortressed Forward flow from fjords Sands of time become the looking glass Under the heat of innumerable moments For scores of swords and the sun’s war-torn Many moons circle over the cities of random eyes Design my personal rats and spiders crawling forth Crown the pyrrhic kings and queens the lords of the flies After many deaths and decades of decadence Cemetery screams humor the unrepentant Where warts and worms fertilize The body farms (and soon the nymph’s woods) I yearn, you yearn, yet only one will be spurned Falling into the volcanic chasm to burn Every eagle knows the serpent-bladed grass After befriending and conspiring with the cactus Vivid yet vague, like paintings made from plagues Rage reaches relaxation, docility descending to dormancy Whilst golden sun-dried pyramids Shine and reflect the world’s lunacy Weak wet weeks welter once weekends wisp wild walruses, whence winds walk.
2.
Let me tell you the story of a tale of a fairy   A secret entombed in clandestine sinistrality  It all began when the first of an army of raindrops Shattered the crimson dawn...  A voice called:  “I am your thoughts which never rot I am the thoughts whom you never forgot”  I retorted:  “Stalk not your sanguine fingers  Hemorrhaged from the mountain stream,  To bedevil and curse  And embitter my sweetest dreams!” Next I knew I awoke in a dark room  Not knowing what I did or will do  It was the malignancy of the first Frost After the summer of love  Never did I find the source of the voice The impetus: hallucinations? Was my first choice  If I had to decide how I’d make sense  Of my subconsciousness I put two and two together  But the result wasn’t four me I still hunger for the genesis  Which drew my haunted sleep  Like carriages  It turned hard to tell which way I heard a yell  Every direction which did suggest was fruitless for my rest  I said to myself groggily,  “I wish to return to slumber,  But alas my heartbeat’s a greater number Than I am accustomed”   As I suddenly awoke the air felt filled with smoke  The lights burned out and I could hear again the shout  Of that bloke, that very same bloke  Orating such unnerving things as before when it spoke  It was then I distinguished  The dog’s head beast; Fatigued from anxiousness, I finally returned to sleep... I still hear their echo (I still hear their echo I still hear their echo I still hear their echo  I still hear their echo I still hear their echo I still hear their echo) “Be still, my weary soul...”
3.
Going to reach the ends of the world  Going to visit them with my girl  Going to take the world by storm  Like a hurricane gone insane as it’s born  Say goodbye to the eye We’re going (in) blind!
4.
Hard rock orgy Our souls are glaciers As each moving cog heats Stand still, transcend time, Assume the position supine Obsidian night cuts the sky To release fresh blood of rain It’s beginning to look like the plains Of my dreamscapes Haunting choirs conspire I see the smoke but no fire For crests descended Mission: Madness! My pressured memories Of some kind of nostalgic dawn Are coated in fool’s gold Brittle, they’re shattered by denuded disillusion, soon gone cold. When the curtain closes, I jeeringly mimic Moses And part the red C. (I inquire: are these MY memories?)
5.
A city thriving  The streets rich with wine and gold  The harvests are fertile as Gaia herself  Bountiful be the population’s wealth  Seismological activity  Magma ready to explode  Ashes earnest to take to the skies  Fogging the roads (to Rome)  Black clouds of superfine glass  Lungs inhale and are ripped to shreds  (Also melting like beeswax)  Suffocation, the cruel succumbing Preserved for future excavating  Cool-down under the dust clouds —A city engulfed in the shrouds; Volcanic Dust so thick  If the goal was extinction, it does the trick. 
6.
Like the dancing of the crystals of snow On the surface of the lake of fire Through the open wound Of the door to your closed heart My stare into the abyss Reflections of your Bethlehem Clouded by a black sludge of “A realization of uncertainty” Known as putrefaction. Through the corridors of cold denial You forged a new Devil Cruel creature of habit With your rituals Your veil of Eschaton avails not Effigy of the begotten Sacrificial exsanguination The wooden cross rots as termites devour The oak and flowers Solomon the solo monkey king Split in twain Pandemonium has the greater keys Sorrow be thy name That your perdition still stinks less Than the excrement of your fathers About paradise Is Armageddon once again Sorrowed be the apostate Pending the cessation of superstitions, A severed soul and several of your toes Are avulsed. Archangelic prostitutes Greet from the green clouds Of meadows on the golden fork Oh the truth tastes Like bitter orange and sour grapes But I much prefer it over the sugary raincoat.

about

Album title is Spanish for "The Shit of the Fathers".

A progressive and eclectic hodge-podge album recorded at various time points between July 2021 through the eve of September 2022. Features elements of punk, symphonic metal, slam/brutal death, electronic, noise, and more in addition to the core Sardonic Wrath sound of blackened death metal.

No bass guitar used on this album.

credits

released September 1, 2022

Sadistic Blasphemer: guitars, vocals, drum/synth programming

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Sardonic Wrath

Avant-garde Black/Death Metal band, first created by Sadistic Blasphemer in June 2012.

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