As The Temple Burns EP

by Sept of Memnon

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released August 15, 2015

All recording, mixing, and mastering by Spenser Morris
Drum and guitar recording done at Bricktop Recording February 2015
Guitar solo on Track 2 performed by Derek Ahrens



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Track Name: Ego-död (As The Temple Burns)
The shackles fall away, as though what once was hard as iron is now immaterial
Faith and trust, such useless chains that now crash down to Earth


I cringe again, the last of my fear compelling me to brake for divine fury
No bolt from heaven, no sound,
Except for the shattering and burning of the once mighty temple within me

A temple whose foundations were built on doubt and loneliness and un-knowledge
Though I can still see the roots, the tree built upon them was finally withered and released from my mind

God, the temple of the ego, such an "unatural" and sacrosanct creation!
The ultimate expression of our disgusting attempt to control chaos, nature, the cosmos

The ultimate cancer, the final virus
Cut it out and submerge thyself into the murky waters of true chaos

Andes in den heliga befrielsen av kaos och spy ut dina meningslosa sannheter
Track Name: Gates Of Inanna
A flash of arrogance surges through my blood, and it's heat dispels my doubts
I must claim what is promised, and neither god, nor lowly beast
Nor weak apprehension will hamper my efforts

As if motivated by recaptured youth,
I stride through the gates and demand entrance, demand audience

The powers of the Earth scoff and sneer, but their laughter does nothing to shake my resolve
Not until I lose what I hold dearest do I realize my folly

The horror, defeat
My ruin, begun
Ego-death, complete

Sacrifice; at what cost?
My pain is magnified by
Self-loathing, no one to blame
What have I done ?
Track Name: Contrition
The winter, here again begins its yearly dance with the darker side of me
The season no longer inspires urgent sadness as it once did,
Merely an unsettling grey

Men tänk om jag
Skulle bara försöka
Kämpa en gång till mot
Skulle det vara värt, bära frukt
Eller bara vara en till besvikelse
Att packa upp
Och slänga på brasan!
Där alla andra små
Paketer brinner varmt
Paketer med ingen retur adress

Oh, I was not born to exist here
In a place where my mind has no peace and my heart has no hope

I rattle my chains and cry for help where there is absolutely none to be found
The few laughs that belch from within me attempt to disguise the loss