Rotting Christ

Orders From The Dead

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He world is going up in flames
The world is going up in flames
The world is going up in flames

But these flames are not new
To our dead
Our dead did cry their final prayer in those flames
Our dead did sing their last lullaby in those flames
Our dead prayed to our infidelite god in those flames
Our dead whispered a last goodbye to their mother
In those flames

Фзт еярб мьнб мз укйьжеубй иб гхсяупхме
Эче гейб мьнб

The world is going up in flames

Our dead clawed their children close in
The world is going up in flames

Фб рбйдйь мпх кблэ!
Мзн еядбфе фб рбйдйь мпх;
Гйб ьнпмб фпх иепэ!
Бч, мпх фпн рюсбне
Фй нб иэлщ фз жщю..
Фб рбйдйь мпх, фб рбйдйь мпх

Вьжей мйб фсечьлб гйб фз иьлбууб
Рэцфей кбй рнягефбй

Our dead watched their daughters
Raped and beaten
In the still-burning of those flames

Our dead watched an ax remove their
Mother's skull
And crown a wooden spit
In the continuous burning of those flames

Our dead watched while chrysotomos
Eyes and tongue were pulled out,
Teeth and fingers broken, one by one,
In the laughing and the cheering
Of those flames
Бсрьобне брь фзн фефсьдб мбт
Фпхт укяубне фзн кпйлйь ме мйб мбчбйсйь
Фпн вьлбне кбй вьдйже ксбфюнфбт ф'ьнфесь фпх уфб чэсйб

Our dead watched their sisters drenched with gasoline
And scream with melting skin
"the world is going up in flames"

Our dead gave birth to turkish victories
The gurgling and then dying trophy.
On a bayonet which marked the borders of
The world which is going up in flames

Гйб ьнпмб фпх чсйуфпэ
Мз мбт бцюуефе эчпхме мщсь мбжя мбт
Эчпхме гесьнфпхт, эчпхме кпсяфуйб
Еяуфе хреэихнпй!
Нбэбсче, нбэбсче!цщфйь! цщфйь!

Our dead were dragged in marches
Through the desert sun
For weeks until the sun burned out their lungs

And when the desert sun which was burning them like flames
Ripped apart their lips, we heard the final prayer
Lord god have mercy lord upon our souls!

Мбт рспдюубне, мбт оерпхлюубне
Рбньиемб фпхт!
Нбэбсче, фй кьнейт;
Нбэбсче, уюуфе мбт! цщфйь! цщфйь!

They saw the world is going up in flames
Buried, not yet dead inside the pits

"giaouri, infideli:
Our god has chosen you to die"

Гпнбфяуфе, gampour
Кбй гпнбфяжбне!
Оегхмнюупх! кбй оегхмнюнефбй
Ўнпйое фб укэлйб упх кбй фб' бнпягей
Чьсеше! кбй чпсеэей
Цфэуе фзн фймю упх кбй фзн рбфсядб упх! кбй цфэнпхн.
Брбснюупх фзн ряуфз упх! кбй фзн брбснйэфбй.

And now the unblessed dead have ordered us to say:

This is my grave, my holy bed
You cannot take it

You can not erase my name
You can not erase our dead

You cannot erase the dead
Because we have been ordered now
To list their names, their numbers,

To give their date of birth, their earthly city,
Their father's name, the sweetness
Of their mother's eyes



And forevermore
We'll see you when the desert meets the sky
But do not forget my name

And so these were the orders from the dead
Said without a word but with a final glance:


Granted to the infidel

Since an infidelite hell
Should not require a prayer
Should not require a silent moment

And now the infidel is told
To forgive and to forget
To understand :

Advance into a paradise of dead memories,
Of living death, the old folks home
Of catatonia
Of madness
And despair.

"do not ask me for the number of that grave:
It has been stolen."

"what is this love for bones and dirt?
Put this ancient thing behind you, infidelite
You have no claim to god
You have no claim to peace
You have no claim to joy

You have no claim

You have no claim

You have no claim


Remember just how lucky, sperm of satan,
That you are:
To even be


Мбт фйньобне брь фз укьлб
Ьрщт фйньоейт энб фсбрежпмьнфйлп нб рэупхне фб шячпхлб


Across the sea!

Фб шячпхлб


Еямбуфе фб шячпхлб, фб рефейнь фпх пхсбнпэ
Иб чпсфьупхн брь фб шячпхлб

You have no god.

A man without a god
Can not be burned alive
He never was alive,

Not as a man, giavour,
But as a dog."


But i have orders from the dead
That warn me:

"do not forget me:
My blood will fill the air you breathe

"my deathbird is not dead

He carries all my teeth:

My smile of unforgetfulness,

My laugh!


I am the man unburied
Who cannot sleep
In forty pieces!!!!!

I am the girl,
And unblessed,

I am the open mouth
That drags your flesh
And will never rest


My death is written
In a rock that can
Not be

And these are the orders
From the dead.

Autor(es): Diamanda Galás

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