Скачать или смотреть Fifth Circle of Hell - Beneath the Boiling Mire (Wrath)

📜 DescriptionThe Fifth Circle of Hell – Wrath.
On the black waters of Styx, the wrathful strike each other in endless rage, while the sullen sink beneath, choking on their silence.Above the swamp screams.Below muffled sorrow.Rage eternal — the mire of Styx devours all.

Lyrics:

“Here flows the Styx, black and blind,
A sea of rage, a choking brine.
Above, they strike, with claw and roar—
Below, they choke forevermore.”

The water churns with broken cries,
Fists like stones and bloodshot eyes.
They tear, they thrash, they bite the air,
In rage that rots, but does not care.

The swamp becomes their final throne,
A kingdom made of wrath alone.
No peace, no pause, no breath, no rest—
Just boiling mud upon their chest.


We cursed the world with every breath,
Now Styx has bound us into death.
Above, we fight; below, we drown,
Forever lost, forever bound.

Strike! Tear! Bite! Break!
The mire is ours, the storm we make!
No chains, no flames, just endless ire—
Beneath the boiling, blackened mire.
We rage, we rot, we claw, we crave—
No soul survives the Styx’s grave.

Beneath the waves, the silence moans,
Their anger buried in their bones.
They never spoke, they never screamed,
But in their hearts, the fury seethed.

Now bubbles rise where voices choke,
Each gasp a word they never spoke.
A muffled hymn of nameless pain,
Drowned in Styx, yet still remains.

We hid our fire behind the veil,
Now Styx recalls what silence failed.
Our lips are mud, our lungs are stone,
And rage is all we call our own.

“See, Dante… here lies wrath in forms both loud and hushed.
The fist and the whisper,
The scream and the silence—
Both are poison.
And both are eternal.”

Strike! Tear! Bite! Break!
The mire is ours, the storm we make!
Above they claw, below they drown—
The Styx consumes, we all go down.
We rage, we rot, we claw, we crave—
No soul survives the Styx’s grave.
Forever bound, forever dire—
Beneath the boiling, blackened mire.

«Fitti nel limo dicon: "Tristi fummo
nell’aere dolce che dal sol s’allegra,
portando dentro accidïoso fummo:
or ci attristiam ne la belletta negra."

“Sunk in the slime they say: ‘Sullen we were
in the sweet air that by the sun is gladdened,
bearing within ourselves the smoke of sloth:
now we are sullen in this black ooze.’”