for H.P. Lovecraft lovers

[Matthias Steel]

Lyrics from a awesome song

Here in the darkness
Black Well of Chaos
Boiling before my eyes
In here the dead rise
Out of the Cauldron
Evil that never dies

Bringer of darkness
Demon of Chaos
King of eternal lies
Father of evil
Loosing his black minions
Into the night

Into the Cauldron I cast my life
Breaking the black spells of sacrifice

Into the Chaos
Enter the warriors
Aryan seed of life
War with Kthulos?
Re-animate life forms
Bringers of genocide

Nightmare's confusion
Morbid illusions
Wrecking the mortal mind
I Taliesin
Banish the Black Cauldron
With my own life

Into the Cauldron I cast my life
Breaking the black spells of sacrifice, into the light

The Old Ones shall return
Cthulu's words still burn
Into the etchings of all time

The Bardic songs of old
Of warriors brave and bold
Still echo magic in their rhyme

The fire burns bright
Inside the mind
Through death comes life
Blindness to sight, into the light

Here in the darkness
Black dreams of Chaos
I hear Cthulu's call
Forever The Old Ones
Shall be upon us
Until they devour us all

[Tanshaydar]

Lovecraft doesn't go this much I think. It's more like Forgotten Realms.

[thepaleking]

Some of Lovecrafts own poetry is very lyrical.

Spoiler below!

Nemesis
Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,
Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,
I have lived o'er my lives without number,
I have sounded all things with my sight;
And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.

I have whirled with the earth at the dawning,
When the sky was a vaporous flame;
I have seen the dark universe yawning
Where the black planets roll without aim,
Where they roll in their horror unheeded, without knowledge or lustre or name.

I had drifted o'er seas without ending,
Under sinister grey-clouded skies,
That the many-forked lightning is rending,
That resound with hysterical cries;
With the moans of invisible daemons, that out of the green waters rise.

I have plunged like a deer through the arches
Of the hoary primoridal grove,
Where the oaks feel the presence that marches,
And stalks on where no spirit dares rove,
And I flee from a thing that surrounds me, and leers through dead branches above.

I have stumbled by cave-ridden mountains
That rise barren and bleak from the plain,
I have drunk of the fog-foetid fountains
That ooze down to the marsh and the main;
And in hot cursed tarns I have seen things, I care not to gaze on again.

I have scanned the vast ivy-clad palace,
I have trod its untenanted hall,
Where the moon rising up from the valleys
Shows the tapestried things on the wall;
Strange figures discordantly woven, that I cannot endure to recall.

I have peered from the casements in wonder
At the mouldering meadows around,
At the many-roofed village laid under
The curse of a grave-girdled ground;
And from rows of white urn-carven marble, I listen intently for sound.

I have haunted the tombs of the ages,
I have flown on the pinions of fear,
Where the smoke-belching Erebus rages;
Where the jokulls loom snow-clad and drear:
And in realms where the sun of the desert consumes what it never can cheer.

I was old when the pharaohs first mounted
The jewel-decked throne by the Nile;
I was old in those epochs uncounted
When I, and I only, was vile;
And Man, yet untainted and happy, dwelt in bliss on the far Arctic isle.

Oh, great was the sin of my spirit,
And great is the reach of its doom;
Not the pity of Heaven can cheer it,
Nor can respite be found in the tomb:
Down the infinite aeons come beating the wings of unmerciful gloom.

Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,
Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,
I have lived o'er my lives without number,
I have sounded all things with my sight;
And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.