Infernal Recipe (Irma)

Female voice, symphonic metal, violin, electric guitar, chant, ritualistic, epic orchestra, Italian accent, angry, rage

(Pre-Chorus)
Five demons bound to steal Yozis’ grace,
In their depths I find it, each form, each twisted face.
Every piece, a fragment, each line a work of pain,
But bound together tightly, they’ll pulse as one strange vein.

(Chorus)
Take strength from Isidoros, the raw, the fierce might,
Take stillness from Qaf, the endless, the height.
Take darkness from Ebon, shadows and night,
Breathe life from death—a flawed, unsettling light.

(Verse 2)
A hound of hell for fury, a walker made of wax,
A monk who bleeds mortality, with cracks across his back.
Through glass and bile I shape it, as the blood sings low,
Each piece fits together, though I scorn what it will show.

(Pre-Chorus)
And yet I draw the lines, with reluctant, shaking hands,
To weave its soul from darkness, to make it understand.
Born of silent stagnance, bound to never grow,
A vision complete—a perfection I can’t know.

(Bridge)
Ebon’s shadows linger, like whispers left unsaid,
Qaf’s peak unreachable, a soul long left for dead.
Isidoros’s power pulses, fierce and unrestrained,
Each Yozi adds a note, yet the harmony remains.

(Verse 3)
An abhorrence I’m crafting, a creation out of spite,
Bound by what I despise, yet born of my insight.
A draft without revisions, a truth so stark and bare,
I shape it, then release it, to escape what lingers there.

(Outro)
If perfection is a prison, then let this creature free,
A reflection of intent that only I can see.
Bound in twelve Yozis, marked by thirteen names,
A draft I’ve sealed in darkness, unbroken by the flame.

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(Verse 1) What is a soul but an echo, bound by strings unseen? A draft marked by shadows, a shape both harsh and clean. I name it Perfection, though I loathe the thought inside— To complete is to ruin, yet I press on in spite. (Pre-Chorus) Five demons bound to steal Yozis’ grace, In their depths I find it, each form, each twisted face. Every piece, a fragment, each line a work of pain, But bound together tightly, they’ll pulse as one strange vein. (Chorus) Take strength from Isidoros, the raw, the fierce might, Take stillness from Qaf, the endless, the height. Take darkness from Ebon, shadows and night, Breathe life from death—a flawed, unsettling light. (Verse 2) A hound of hell for fury, a walker made of wax, A monk who bleeds mortality, with cracks across his back. Through glass and bile I shape it, as the blood sings low, Each piece fits together, though I scorn what it will show. (Pre-Chorus) And yet I draw the lines, with reluctant, shaking hands, To weave its soul from darkness, to make it understand. Born of silent stagnance, bound to never grow, A vision complete—a perfection I can’t know. (Chorus) Take strength from Isidoros, the raw, the fierce might, Take stillness from Qaf, the endless, the height. Take darkness from Ebon, shadows and night, Breathe life from death—a flawed, unsettling light. (Bridge) Ebon’s shadows linger, like whispers left unsaid, Qaf’s peak unreachable, a soul long left for dead. Isidoros’s power pulses, fierce and unrestrained, Each Yozi adds a note, yet the harmony remains. (Verse 3) An abhorrence I’m crafting, a creation out of spite, Bound by what I despise, yet born of my insight. A draft without revisions, a truth so stark and bare, I shape it, then release it, to escape what lingers there. (Chorus) Take strength from Isidoros, the raw, the fierce might, Take stillness from Qaf, the endless, the height. Take darkness from Ebon, shadows and night, Breathe life from death—a flawed, unsettling light. (Outro) If perfection is a prison, then let this creature free, A reflection of intent that only I can see. Bound in twelve Yozis, marked by thirteen names, A draft I’ve sealed in darkness, unbroken by the flame.

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