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DE CONTEMPLANDA MORTE

by Mortuus

supported by
Ippocalyptica
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Ippocalyptica Mortuus is not talked about as often as some of its contemporaries when it comes to orthodox satanic black metal, but only because of its relative lack of output. When it comes to orthodox black metal bonafides, however, Mortuus ranks among the elite, and it is because of De Contemplanda Morte. This is generally a slow to mid-paced affair (with its faster moments), with less emphasis on tremolo riffing and far cleaner production than one would expect for such an incredibly atmospheric black metal album. The production deserves special attention, in fact, as it adds immensely to the sepulchral and muddy ambiance without ever detracting from the instrumental and vocal performances, and rivals would do well to take note. The excellent ANTM split album from 2017 brought Mortuus somewhat back into the spotlight, and with luck, we will hear more from the purveyors of “spiritual death worship” sooner rather than later.
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1.
Khepera is in her hiding and the church bells are silent now the inner starvation has bred an emotionless madness breeding desires so dark... in these abodes of awful forms I am becoming tzel maveth incarnated the breath of complete perversion! soil is spread upon the ground, her sleep disturbed and their sorrow shall turn into horror in the morning but the moon rests in darkness now for how could it shine in the light of the black sun? the lights are all exploding at their presence for there are many here, many here... yet there is light: the tombstones radiate a glare unearthly a strange glow, growing stronger at each movement the metamorphosis of an angel turning into a beast is progressing in this unholy marriage of life and death I wear this lower crown, at the throne of shells for death is my bride in these abodes of awful forms
2.
past deeds linger in the astral darkness through the tunnel connecting luna to earth woe unto me, for there is an old incarnation present here compelled to remain somewhere in between ge'hinnom and sheol seven hells that are mine, where past and present melt to one the price of murder paid through ages and ages in this fusion of life and death the gathered decay of past lives somehow present in the very moment has darkened my inner sight and the self transforms into an open grave cuts that go deeper than flesh pitch-black blood flowing forth from a re-opened wound perpetuated in a flood of waters unreal I can not breathe in thee, incarnated human... slave to the temptations of the lower mind that is the key that has brought upon me this dead mind-ghost and he was me, breathing through shells of perdition 'this life I now live, is rather a lack of living: it is a continuous dying, if with You I do not make my living listen, my God, to what I say: I do not want this life of mine: For I die because I do not die.' San Juan DE LA Cruz: not living in myself I live, line 11-17. I can not breathe in thee, incarnated human the bleak presence of an old murder remains a key of torture the irony of Osiris, turning Samsaras wheel to my misfortune why, oh why was a spirit this old incarnated with such a depraved personality?
3.
the circle of Leviathan is broken an ageless principle of cathartic darkness that turns justice into spiritual tyranny and restores the balance through a justified torture! suffering in excess, they say... but how can these lives be worthy even a single breath, when the harlots are are blind to this revelation open for all eyes to see? woe unto all ye whores to the flesh, for the heart of Leviathan is beating pulsating in destroying rhythm, in constant penetration of the worlds from the heights of the left pillar, descending in sacrosanct wrath becoming the bane of all merciful sins smashing the chains, again and again, in the face of a whore! there will be new blood rushing forth through the veins of the fallen Eden streams of dark water cleansing the filth oh, most holy bringer of fear! Thy punishments are righteous the deaths spread by the many arms of severity are holy! the temple of fear has risen in this world, and yet you fail to see that the works of Death are shining with brilliance that the tension between Tzadkiel and Khamael is the divine, natural law that the serpent is a key to equilibrium and thereby to the path that shall give me the bliss of perfect silence
4.
Hear my praise, unto Thee all flesh shall come grant them eternal rest there are weepings and sighs in the distance reminders of those who fell into the deep an abyss once living and dead four rivers cutting through a timeless mystery the path that is the barren and abandoned paradise where the waters are but poison, and everything is destroyed I walked with the inner voice at the end of the fallen desert the spine of the worlds split to form hell anew and the moment was separated from time the sight became fourfold therein revelation entangled in revelation and I beheld an abandoned bleak house in the mist of the darkness, levitating through a higher will staring through the mirror that revealed the face that stores all death within hear my praise, unto Thee all flesh shall come grant them eternal rest! and a path devoured itself from all sides unveiled forgotten words I beheld the illumination of Job before the entrance to the brightest darkness the moment separated from time every aspect of the self utterly destroyed
5.
Before the outpouring of transient worlds the vast darkness was in itself He was not and I in Him in a rest of perfect darkness still-born existence, rejoicing in a pitch-black womb death was yet to deliver this child before the great sea overflowed when the pillars collided the vast darkness in itself in a paradox existence, where the creative principle are of itself a lidless eye opened itself in the emptiness death fell, yet there is hope for all the still-born spirit rests with gods in a sterile triad, before the yod joins Ama in deathless death, that life has not yet touched redemption is delivered, through the bliss of the lord He was not and none in him in a rest of perfect darkness still-born worlds, once potent in a pitch black womb death delivers the child!
6.
The spirit can not die in anything but in Thee therefore I implore Thee in prayer for everything must be destroyed so that you can live, so that I can live oh, God of the perfect black, how could I possibly describe in words - the awe and worship I feel for Thee? the serpent of time withdrawn through Thee the fountain of living water reversed It becomes the mouth of spiritual death the last motion completes Itself brought into being when the breath of Chaos releases the central point the spirit can not die in anything but Thee yea, above all thing Thou art! and everything becomes Thee yes, everything dies in Thee! for Thou art the channel of Thyself. there lies the redemption of death full-filled there is the salvation and final release Amen

about

Recorded in G'hinnom Studio 2006.
Released by the Ajna Offensive 2007.

credits

released April 4, 2007

Hinze/Kvarnbrink.

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Mortuus Sweden

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