You who lurk behind the countless masks And behind the mighty desert storms You escaped from the caves of darkness And descended down into the matter Light my inner temple With Luciferic fire that burns between your horns Fill it with your magic, your spirit Make it the sterile area of your holiness.
The tree growing on it's square is like death Up grown by your black light The fruits ever dying on it's branches From where the man can eat their wisdom.
And their bread of the ones doomed to perdition And the wine of those doomed to hell Everything it breeds in front of us We shall enjoy without fear.
I step into your dark tunnels Where only instics guide me!
As for us getting lost is a victory Univetiable part of the path of your gnosis The prize is standing at the end In the uttermost end of the labyrinth.
Reveal yourself to us, Azazel Horned master of the dark witches Forge the weapons of our own liberation The Luciferian will!