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by AWE

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Axiom Black-lords AWE unfold possibly one of the most transcendental albums this year with "Providential", a gateway of immeasurable and limitless musical scenery that is clearly evident throughout.

Consisting of three strangely enigmatic tracks spanning almost an hour and with the visually thought-provoking artwork by Greek illustrator Konstantinos Psichas (Viral Graphics), the aura surrounding "Providentia", albeit the darkness and chaos, is a leviathan that spews a conceptual ideology of Man and Universe.

For fans of Deathspell Omega, Blut Aus Nord, Dodheimsgard, etc!


released November 13, 2015

Music & lyrics through Awe

Recorded, mixed and mastered at Unreal Studios (

Artwork and layout by Viral Graphics (


all rights reserved



AWE Athens, Greece

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Track Name: Actus Primus
It's at the most crucial moment when answers to great questions need not be debated, but acted.
Should a golem that discovers its own nature end itself in despair, or re-assume its role in resignation?

We now see, the virtuous ape attempting to adopt the role of the Creator.
But what good of is God deprived of omnipotence and immortality?
How confident is a supreme Judge, looking through a lens of myopia?
To embrace Chaos and feed out of doubt...

The curse which is placed upon humanity, is rather not the wrong at its heart,
But the prisons imposed by causality, the deception of autonomy,
The despair of inadequacy.

Incurvatus in se.

Woe to you, strayed sheep! Still directionless in spite of your consummations.
For it is not the ultimate void which is the most monstrous of destinies, but a small light…
That is yourself, surrounded by a universe of darkest malice,
By shadows, shadows of ignorance, the so called eventuality,
The fear of transfiguration, a nescient creature tearing its own flesh.

What is the true essence of human desire, but a hopeless conflict with the inescapable?
A consciousness that has so gracefully elevated from dust to spirit, should accept no reconciliation,
But voraciously consume what only deserves to be experienced, not fathomed or figured.

For the young soul, fixated through illuminating ordeals on Ideals of Absoluteness
An inquisitive gaze unmasks all mortal affirmations as vulgar delusion, dreadful impartiality.
Am I expected to ascend on rotten steps?

Curse to whom had conceived the Notion of Truth!
The greatest deceptor of common man, an inviting light from beyond eternity
For others to seek for in despair.
Still, despicably so, by swimming in the filth.

“What we cannot speak of, we must pass over in silence."

A circle of Magi perched upon Gaia’s summit.
Those in front, are slowly shrinking into nothingness
Below, drenched in blood their castrated limbs lie.
Others, walking madly with carved out eyes,
Or laying still with a stare of arid comfort.
Bent over for Divine Grace.

"Shall you join us?"
"Through Awe I can shape the reality of others, but who will be the agent of mine?"

In the abode of the humble, no hungry soul should abide.
For small, timid striders, there is no resting place but underneath the eternal sand's embrace.
And in-between humanity, there is nothing else certain but eternal strife
Of the meekly, against the courageous, of the simple, against the perplexed.

Defiance and Retribution.
Track Name: Actus Secundus
Deep within the corridors of existence, hides a sleeping Beast
Transmuting seemingly harmless fire, into sickly sadistic Blight.
How can I control a thought which transpires from another?
A cruel, unwanted procession. Wandering aimlessly, without ardor.

How is not the outward reality but a theatre of shadows?
The entourage of subordinancy is feigned indifference
When the blind are rewarded for averting their eyes, the impotent for chastity,
A place amongst Heaven is a drop of piss, in an ocean of wine.

O self-looker, be enamored with the most adamant of courage
You descend in the Land where nothing stands, but twists and curls.
By my own will I shall grab Ariadne's thread and unweave it,
Even to the utmost, sunless abysses should it lead me.

Do we truly see inside the tangling of the threads, or simply associate one end with another...
Am I Mine, or am I a multitude of Others?

Come suffering, horror, ridicule and derision!
I adore your righteous nails, plunging the soul like surgical blades
Cutting a way through opulent, caressing fabrics
In nakedness to leave, inviting and enigmatic.

Hungry eyes, burning glares upon my mirage of disgrace,
Of a beast with many faces, banished into convenient obscurity

My Makers, I bow for you in arrogant gratitude
As I tear down your entrails, quenchless parasites

I will never succumb into ignorant, finite pleasures of resignation, of fated condemnation!
Give me instead a thousand eternal torments of Prometheus, the futile anticipation of Sisyphus,
For I seek the Only Light, the guidance towards the Above.

As mind is flesh and flesh is earthly, the path towards ascension is like the diagonal course of an arrow, piercing through parchment, leaving its trace on it like the supreme reveals itself upon the mundane, cryptically and partially. Shrouded in mystery, grasped by intuition. Unproven, shunned and solitary.

Let me rejoice at this wondrous moment when your agony turns into sadistic laughter,
For "madness", the renouncement of linearity is but a passage.
No ambition is there in symphony, no fervor in static.

To be awakened from the sleep of servitude, one must self-induce the greatest of indignities, vilest of maladies, to be written-off from God’s little plan of semi-conscious cogwheels in the game of deathly transformation. Contra Natura, the beginning of freedom.

As my flesh is carved, bent and reshaped, I look and see through the particles of matter
Space and time unravel in complexities immense, multifarious yet, still resisting to interpretation.

Oh Revelation supreme! Great Promise, Vision of splendor!
You urge me to pursue you in depths of existence untrodden
In cosmic impiety, in adversary with all of Being itself!
Track Name: Actus Purus
All life is burdened with the curse of finality,
The pitch black mountain which roses above every gust of hope.
Was this Your secret present to the bearers of consciousness?
To watch them in agony as you withdrew to the depths of darkness.

Confronted with the insanity of discontinuity
Man has long resolved to understanding you
As a deathbed analgesic, a past time delinquency
Yet, their masks of wax are always stricken with terror.

And still You rule with an iron fist.
Without will, consciousness, agency.
Assimilating, transfiguring, annihilating.
You puny, smallest «God».

I have reached the Gate of Pleroma
And I am knocking to deaf ears.
No lamb or serpent awaiting to embrace me
The air is choking with a lifeless silence, that of solitude.

O Providentia! How I wish that you would strip me off memory
So that I may stride in you as a child, back to the lands of old.
For this is a deceiving journey into Nothingness
In which everything that you see, is what you carry with you.

Will not the refolding of everything that has ever unfolded eventually reach back to the primordial, one Source?
Therefore, if singularity can self-manifest, a precedence should exist even for the unprecedented.

As I feel the last of the human essence slip through
I remember from a single seed you have once created everything.
This, thy all common gift to your children
Is the Sanctuary I will defile and enter
My final blasphemy.

When there is no beginning, there can be no end.
All Creation then I shall hunt throughout the galaxy.
And as for the end of everything, it shall take place within Me
In union Despotic and Profane.
In Stasis.

Rise up then, my blackened Wings, lift my flesh of coal and thorns
Take me to every light in the galaxy, so I may darken it.
Burn then, my scepter, with my Hate and Hunger,
So that I may consume the heart of the innocent.

I am now ALL. I am now ONE.
And at last I see the only, true darkness.



The loudest cry.
The grandest laugh.
The cruelest joke.

Everything was predestined.
All of this had happened before and will happen again.
Recoil. Once again, throughout the purposeless eternity.

As I tear my flesh free, in my last second, I understand.
I am now the Womb, the Mother.
The Creator.

Recoiling. Eternally.

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