The Best Of Enemies (wulf's Tale) Lyrics - Sabbat

Oh instrument of God force - 

Fed on ignorance and lies, 

so blind and narrow-minded 

that you cannot compromise. 

Even the most foolish theif 

should know what he is taking - 

lest he find himself within a 

cage of his own making. 

The Ways of Wyrd are many and 

our path you must decide, 

for the secrets that you seek 

are all around you- 

use your eyes. 

The threads cannot be broken 

that have brought you here to me - 

and bind two foes together 

like the best of enemies. 

You gaze upon me - 

I can tell what you see, 

a simple man - 

with simple thoughts and 

simple needs. 

Superstition - 

preying on a mind filled with fear, 

opposition- 

to all your 'enlightened' ideas. 

Yet I will show you more than 

you can comprehend, 

beware delusion is a 

dangerous friend. 

Ask loaded questions seeking 

knowledge of a faith that 

you wish to pervert - 

all our values, 

with hidden meanings 

you try concealing your 

underlying wish to convert - 

'heathen' souls, 

to a faith that will doubtless 

send our Gods to the grave - 

mistake you're making overlooking 

the fact that we might not want 

to be 'saved'. 

THE SORCERERS CREED: 

Fear is an old friend of mine, 

we have met many times before. 

(Drawn to these spirits like 

moths to a flame- 

when there is no risk then 

there can be no gain). 

Death is a harsh fact of life 

you cannot avoid or ignore. 

The Life-force is as strong in 

you as it is strong in me, 

the difference is what you 

hold captive I set free. 

You seek to subjugate all 

those who won't comply, 

I'll take your prejudice and 

pride and show you why - 

the values that you hold so dear 

(all your laws and rules), 

they hold no more sway here 

than the mutterings of fools. 

Just look about you and 

I'm sure that you will find - 

Heaven lies within our hearts 

and Hell is but a figment of 

your mind. 

These teachings that you deem so 

sacred bcome words devoid of meaning, 

when compared unto a faith that 

preaches something worth believing. 

What is to become of us when 

truth is turned to lies, 

will none remain to wipe the tears 

when Mother Nature cries? 

Proceed with caution - 

subservient to all you survey, 

hidden dangers await us on 

each step of our way. 

Do not falter - 

for if you do you will fall, 

prey unto perils far worse 

than you've encountered before. 

Compared unto the threats we face 

your devil seems so mild, 

a relic from the faerie-tales my 

mother told me as a child. 

Why do you carry your God 

like a weapon - 

a dagger drawn ready to strike 

at the heart of a foe when you 

don't really know the reason 

that you fight? - 

to replace our disgrace with 

the 'loving' embrace of your Lord - 

can't you see that the plans 

made for me and my people 

to us seem absurd. 

THE SORCERORS CREED: 

Death is the only recourse 

I require in my hour of need. 

(Drawn to the spirits like 

moths to a flame - 

when there is no risk then 

there can be no gain). 

Impassive it shows no remorse 

for folly and greed. 

Pre-emptive prejudice has 

dogmatised your life, 

these blinkered views that once 

held true will no longer suffice. 

For in my world there is no point 

where you can draw the line, 

'twixt good and evil, 

saint and sinner, 

damnate and divine. 

Shaven-headed servant of 

an infantile faith - 

by what right do you presume 

to come and take my place? 

If there is one grain of truth 

amidst your hoard of lies, 

'tis 

"Love your neighbour as yourself" 

with this alone I can abide. 

These teachings that you deem so 

sacred bcome words devoid of meaning, 

when compared unto a faith that 

preaches something worth believing. 

What is to become of us when 

truth is turned to lies, 

will none remain to wipe the tears 

when Mother Nature cries? 

THE WAY OF THE WARRIOR 

When living your life 

like an arrow in flight 

you must always accept that 

the end is in sight, 

be gtateful at least for the fact 

that you knew you came to death - 

he did not come for you. 

You are like targets 

who sit and await - 

patiently suffer 

the arrows of fate, 

saying "I am but mortal 

and destined to die - 

I can change nothing 

so why should I try?" 

Each morning you wake is an 

'ember day' dawning, 

your penance for living in 

permanent mourning. 

By erst while ideals your 

hearts are enslaved, 

you crawl out of the cradle 

straight into the grave. 

What reward is a banquet 

of red wine and bread, 

when you hunger for life - 

but on death you are fed? 

Do not underestimate 

the task you undertake, 

overcome your hopes and fears 

and meet them face to fate. 

These spirits aren't your enemies - 

but neither are they friends, 

do not dare insult them lest 

all nature you offend. 

They who were here before us 

will remain when we have gone, 

and though we're long forgotten 

still their memory will live on. 

Perhaps one day mankind will see 

the error of it's ways, 

and in it's future glimpse 

reflections of our yesterdays. 

Drawn to these spirits like 

moths to a flame - 

when there is no risk 

then there can be no gain.