The Best Of Enemies（Live in East Berlin, 1989）-Sabbat

作曲 : Jones, Sneap, Walkyier Oh instrument of God force - Fed on ignorance and lies, So blind and narrow-minded That you cannot compromise. Even the most foolish theif Should know what he is taking - Lest he find himself within a Cage of his own making. The Ways of Wyrd are many and Our path you must decide, For the secrets that you seek Are all around you- Use your eyes. The threads cannot be broken That have brought you here to me - And bind two foes together Like the best of enemies. You gaze upon me - I can tell what you see, A simple man - With simple thoughts and Simple needs. Superstition - Preying on a mind filled with fear, Opposition- To all your 'enlightened' ideas. Yet I will show you more than You can comprehend, Beware delusion is a Dangerous friend. Ask loaded questions seeking Knowledge of a faith that You wish to pervert - All our values, With hidden meanings You try concealing your Underlying wish to convert - 'heathen' souls, To a faith that will doubtless Send our Gods to the grave - Mistake you're making overlooking The fact that we might not want To be 'saved'. (THE SORCERERS CREED:) Fear is an old friend of mine, We have met many times before. (Drawn to these spirits like Moths to a flame- When there is no risk then There can be no gain). Death is a harsh fact of life You cannot avoid or ignore. The Life-force is as strong in You as it is strong in me, The difference is what you Hold captive I set free. You seek to subjugate all Those who won't comply, I'll take your prejudice and Pride and show you why - The values that you hold so dear (all your laws and rules), They hold no more sway here Than the mutterings of fools. Just look about you and I'm sure that you will find - Heaven lies within our hearts And Hell is but a figment of Your mind. These teachings that you deem so Sacred bcome words devoid of meaning, When compared unto a faith that Preaches something worth believing. What is to become of us when Truth is turned to lies, Will none remain to wipe the tears When Mother Nature cries? Proceed with caution - Subservient to all you survey, Hidden dangers await us on Each step of our way. Do not falter - For if you do you will fall, Prey unto perils far worse Than you've encountered before. Compared unto the threats we face Your devil seems so mild, A relic from the faerie-tales my Mother told me as a child. Why do you carry your God Like a weapon - A dagger drawn ready to strike At the heart of a foe when you Don't really know the reason That you fight? - To replace our disgrace with The 'loving' embrace of your Lord - Can't you see that the plans Made for me and my people To us seem absurd. (THE SORCERORS CREED:) Death is the only recourse I require in my hour of need. (Drawn to the spirits like Moths to a flame - When there is no risk then There can be no gain). Impassive it shows no remorse For folly and greed. Pre-emptive prejudice has Dogmatised your life, These blinkered views that once Held true will no longer suffice. For in my world there is no point Where you can draw the line, 'twixt good and evil, Saint and sinner, Damnate and divine. Shaven-headed servant of An infantile faith - By what right do you presume To come and take my place? If there is one grain of truth Amidst your hoard of lies, 'tis "Love your neighbour as yourself" With this alone I can abide. These teachings that you deem so Sacred bcome words devoid of meaning, When compared unto a faith that Preaches something worth believing. What is to become of us when Truth is turned to lies, Will none remain to wipe the tears When Mother Nature cries? THE WAY OF THE WARRIOR When living your life Like an arrow in flight You must always accept that The end is in sight, Be gtateful at least for the fact That you knew you came to death - He did not come for you. You are like targets Who sit and await - Patiently suffer The arrows of fate, Saying "I am but mortal And destined to die - I can change nothing So why should I try?" Each morning you wake is an 'ember day' dawning, Your penance for living in Permanent mourning. By erst while ideals your Hearts are enslaved, You crawl out of the cradle Straight into the grave. What reward is a banquet Of red wine and bread, When you hunger for life - But on death you are fed? Do not underestimate The task you undertake, Overcome your hopes and fears And meet them face to fate. These spirits aren't your enemies - But neither are they friends, Do not dare insult them lest All nature you offend. They who were here before us Will remain when we have gone, And though we're long forgotten Still their memory will live on. Perhaps one day mankind will see The error of it's ways, And in it's future glimpse Reflections of our yesterdays. Drawn to these spirits like Moths to a flame - When there is no risk Then there can be no gain.