Beneath the iron sky Of Texas waste A serpent of vapour Coils in sacred haste No mortal hand No earthly spark Only the will Of the black flame in the dark November’s cold breath Over silent steel The reactor bleeds What none can feel Invisible sacrament Heavier than air The butane ghost Begins its prayer It gathers in the hollows It waits in the dust A silent congregation Of pure lust For fire, for ending For the final breath The industrial temple Prepares for death O black flame Rise and consume Turn flesh to ash And steel to tomb Three offerings given To the night In Pampa’s furnace Pure and bright This is the rite This is the law The vapour cloud Is the open maw The rupture sings Its ancient hymn Pressure builds Where light grows dim Then comes the spark The holy strike Blue fire erupts In blasphemous light Bodies fall Like broken icons Glass rains down In crimson icons The night itself Is torn apart By the hungering heart Of the black art O black flame Rise and consume Turn flesh to ash And steel to tomb Three offerings given To the night In Pampa’s furnace Pure and bright This is the rite This is the law The vapour cloud Is the open maw No accident No human flaw Only the will Of the lawless claw From the rupture The serpent crawls And the world itself Begins to fall A wake-up call In blood and flame Forever marked By the unholy name O black flame Rise and consume Turn flesh to ash And steel to tomb Three offerings given To the night In Pampa’s furnace Pure and bright The rite is sealed The law is done The vapour cloud Has claimed its own Black flame… Pampa's doom
