O Night Malign
O, Holy Crap! The stars are now aligning.
It is the time that the dread sleeper wakes.
Long has the world put up with human whining
'Til He appears and the whole planet quakes.
A shock of fear your mortal soul is chilling,
For madness brings a new horrific dawn.
Fall on your knees!
Oh, hear byakhee trilling!
O night malign! The night when all is spawned;
O night! O night! O night malign!
Led by the sound of fungal wings a-beating,
With glowing eyes in Her dark thrall we sway.
Under the world, Her thousand young are eating;
Now come the deep ones on our flesh to prey.
The King in Yellow's name must not be spoken,
In all your organs are his offspring grown.
He knows your needs!
Your weakness will be broken!
Behold your fate; accept what you have sown!
Behold! Behold! Your fate is what you've sown.
Truly we see that science won't protect us;
There is no sense when these strange times are nigh.
Minions arise, entrusted to collect us
And in their claws even sweet death shall die.
The hungry maw of Azathoth is looming,
the mad blind thing you cannot hope to fight.
There is no God!
This madness all-consuming!
The portents and signs show the stars at last are right.
The stars! The stars! At last, the stars are right.
------
For consideration: apologies to Placide Cappeau & Adolphe Adam, apparently
It is the time that the dread sleeper wakes.
Long has the world put up with human whining
'Til He appears and the whole planet quakes.
A shock of fear your mortal soul is chilling,
For madness brings a new horrific dawn.
Fall on your knees!
Oh, hear byakhee trilling!
O night malign! The night when all is spawned;
O night! O night! O night malign!
Led by the sound of fungal wings a-beating,
With glowing eyes in Her dark thrall we sway.
Under the world, Her thousand young are eating;
Now come the deep ones on our flesh to prey.
The King in Yellow's name must not be spoken,
In all your organs are his offspring grown.
He knows your needs!
Your weakness will be broken!
Behold your fate; accept what you have sown!
Behold! Behold! Your fate is what you've sown.
Truly we see that science won't protect us;
There is no sense when these strange times are nigh.
Minions arise, entrusted to collect us
And in their claws even sweet death shall die.
The hungry maw of Azathoth is looming,
the mad blind thing you cannot hope to fight.
There is no God!
This madness all-consuming!
The portents and signs show the stars at last are right.
The stars! The stars! At last, the stars are right.
------
For consideration: apologies to Placide Cappeau & Adolphe Adam, apparently