Papé Satàn, papé Satàn aleppe
Papé Satàn, papé Satàn aleppe
Here we find the last remnants of the sins of incontinence
The prodigal and those possessed of avarice
Demoniacs of the miserly versus the spend-thrifts
Push money bags with sunken chests as if they all were Sisyphus
Papé Satàn, papé Satàn aleppe
Papé Satàn, papé Satàn aleppe
Why do you horde? Why do you squander
Why do you horde? Why do you squander
Crush their hopes like their bones
While they joust, the bargain Faust
Red runs of profit spill from deleterious accounts
One circle down the wrathful drown
In the rivers of the Styx
The vengeful dead and bilious
Claw each other - perfidious
Beneath their feet the passive seethe
With bottled tempers, gurgling
Hidden in the Stygian weeds
Sulking submerged in sullen grief
Farther in, the City of Dis
Sixth circle entrance in the Styx
Fire lit, guarded by fallen angels
Who patrol the embankment
Over head the dreadful furies
Always vengeful, threaten murder
Twisted sisters, crones with serpent
Manes harry sinners with disdain
Medusa trails behind them
A looming threat to all abusers
Female rage personified
Gaze petrifies with gorgon eyes
Like gargoyles perched on parapets
Matriarchal demonic guardians
Startle denizens of the tenement
Grave sites wherein lie Arch-heretics
Epicurus and his arrogant followers
Thought souls die with the body - false arbiters
Languish in tombs engulfed in flames, littered like
Lanterns on the ramparts - they're the hollowed ones
Smoked alive in flaming sepulchers
While harpies shriek and belabor
The heathens and apostates
That rings the circle round the great crater
Papé Satàn, papé Satàn aleppe
Papé Satàn, papé Satàn aleppe
Dive deeper into the cesspit of Dis
Descend down a sheer cliff to see what's within
Before you can reach the first ring of Violence
You are faced with the Minotaur, another guardian
With a face not unlike Moloch
He will frolic in your tears
Sidestep his frenzied charge
To glimpse the squalor of his peers
Murders, tyrants, warmongers, and marauders
Boil in a river of hellfire and blood of their slaughter
The aberrantly violent flounder in the event horizon
Of their crimes, while Chiron strides alongside the Phlegethon
The arrows of the centaurs
Keep them submerged and in their place
Farther out, the second round,
A thorny wood where wolves bay
In the wood of Suicides
Shades turn to gnarled and twisted ents
That are fed upon by harpies
Can only speak when broken or bled
Transfixed and paralytic
Their human form hangs from their limbs
While profligates charge through their brush
Pursued by canines for their whims
(The final round a scorching desert)
Past the forest - a scorching desert
Where blasphemers lie supine
Sodomites run round in circles
While usurers huddle and cry
Eridus - Greed, Wrath, Heresy, and Violence Lyrics
Eridus - Greed, Wrath, Heresy, and Violence Lyrics
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Papé Satàn, papé Satàn aleppe
Papé Satàn, papé Satàn aleppe
Here we find the last remnants of the sins of incontinence
The prodigal and those possessed of avarice
Demoniacs of the miserly versus the spend-thrifts
Push money bags with sunken chests as if they all were Sisyphus
Papé Satàn, papé Satàn aleppe
Papé Satàn, papé Satàn aleppe
Why do you horde? Why do you squander
Why do you horde? Why do you squander
Crush their hopes like their bones
While they joust, the bargain Faust
Red runs of profit spill from deleterious accounts
One circle down the wrathful drown
In the rivers of the Styx
The vengeful dead and bilious
Claw each other - perfidious
Beneath their feet the passive seethe
With bottled tempers, gurgling
Hidden in the Stygian weeds
Sulking submerged in sullen grief
Farther in, the City of Dis
Sixth circle entrance in the Styx
Fire lit, guarded by fallen angels
Who patrol the embankment
Over head the dreadful furies
Always vengeful, threaten murder
Twisted sisters, crones with serpent
Manes harry sinners with disdain
Medusa trails behind them
A looming threat to all abusers
Female rage personified
Gaze petrifies with gorgon eyes
Like gargoyles perched on parapets
Matriarchal demonic guardians
Startle denizens of the tenement
Grave sites wherein lie Arch-heretics
Epicurus and his arrogant followers
Thought souls die with the body - false arbiters
Languish in tombs engulfed in flames, littered like
Lanterns on the ramparts - they're the hollowed ones
Smoked alive in flaming sepulchers
While harpies shriek and belabor
The heathens and apostates
That rings the circle round the great crater
Papé Satàn, papé Satàn aleppe
Papé Satàn, papé Satàn aleppe
Dive deeper into the cesspit of Dis
Descend down a sheer cliff to see what's within
Before you can reach the first ring of Violence
You are faced with the Minotaur, another guardian
With a face not unlike Moloch
He will frolic in your tears
Sidestep his frenzied charge
To glimpse the squalor of his peers
Murders, tyrants, warmongers, and marauders
Boil in a river of hellfire and blood of their slaughter
The aberrantly violent flounder in the event horizon
Of their crimes, while Chiron strides alongside the Phlegethon
The arrows of the centaurs
Keep them submerged and in their place
Farther out, the second round,
A thorny wood where wolves bay
In the wood of Suicides
Shades turn to gnarled and twisted ents
That are fed upon by harpies
Can only speak when broken or bled
Transfixed and paralytic
Their human form hangs from their limbs
While profligates charge through their brush
Pursued by canines for their whims
(The final round a scorching desert)
Past the forest - a scorching desert
Where blasphemers lie supine
Sodomites run round in circles
While usurers huddle and cry
Papé Satàn, papé Satàn aleppe
Here we find the last remnants of the sins of incontinence
The prodigal and those possessed of avarice
Demoniacs of the miserly versus the spend-thrifts
Push money bags with sunken chests as if they all were Sisyphus
Papé Satàn, papé Satàn aleppe
Papé Satàn, papé Satàn aleppe
Why do you horde? Why do you squander
Why do you horde? Why do you squander
Crush their hopes like their bones
While they joust, the bargain Faust
Red runs of profit spill from deleterious accounts
One circle down the wrathful drown
In the rivers of the Styx
The vengeful dead and bilious
Claw each other - perfidious
Beneath their feet the passive seethe
With bottled tempers, gurgling
Hidden in the Stygian weeds
Sulking submerged in sullen grief
Farther in, the City of Dis
Sixth circle entrance in the Styx
Fire lit, guarded by fallen angels
Who patrol the embankment
Over head the dreadful furies
Always vengeful, threaten murder
Twisted sisters, crones with serpent
Manes harry sinners with disdain
Medusa trails behind them
A looming threat to all abusers
Female rage personified
Gaze petrifies with gorgon eyes
Like gargoyles perched on parapets
Matriarchal demonic guardians
Startle denizens of the tenement
Grave sites wherein lie Arch-heretics
Epicurus and his arrogant followers
Thought souls die with the body - false arbiters
Languish in tombs engulfed in flames, littered like
Lanterns on the ramparts - they're the hollowed ones
Smoked alive in flaming sepulchers
While harpies shriek and belabor
The heathens and apostates
That rings the circle round the great crater
Papé Satàn, papé Satàn aleppe
Papé Satàn, papé Satàn aleppe
Dive deeper into the cesspit of Dis
Descend down a sheer cliff to see what's within
Before you can reach the first ring of Violence
You are faced with the Minotaur, another guardian
With a face not unlike Moloch
He will frolic in your tears
Sidestep his frenzied charge
To glimpse the squalor of his peers
Murders, tyrants, warmongers, and marauders
Boil in a river of hellfire and blood of their slaughter
The aberrantly violent flounder in the event horizon
Of their crimes, while Chiron strides alongside the Phlegethon
The arrows of the centaurs
Keep them submerged and in their place
Farther out, the second round,
A thorny wood where wolves bay
In the wood of Suicides
Shades turn to gnarled and twisted ents
That are fed upon by harpies
Can only speak when broken or bled
Transfixed and paralytic
Their human form hangs from their limbs
While profligates charge through their brush
Pursued by canines for their whims
(The final round a scorching desert)
Past the forest - a scorching desert
Where blasphemers lie supine
Sodomites run round in circles
While usurers huddle and cry
Writer: Mark Shaw
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid