TheIconsOfHell

This site represents the conscious Outcast, The awakened soul of the shadow. The words between the lines and the world between the ways. the sweet smelling vapour which slips though cracks into secret places discovering unknown realms. The sorcerer, holy outlaw, The poet, The artist, Those who from birth move outside time, amidst the shadows. beneath whirling open skies and chasms of endless vault. Not to hide from the world but to create new worlds, Gestating in the womb of thier silence. shielding the puirity of thier dark flame from the harsh brilliance of the herd's Disorienting lights, and cacophonous wailing. Thiers is a world of uncertainty and sorcery, self making and wonder. Creatures formed out of a sinister spin of the wheel. The very motion which, moving so swiftly forward produces the illusory back spin. it is out of this perception that they are born. they are the autumn people. plunging thier talons into the hearts of men to devouring thier fear of greatness, of once was'es and could have beens. thier patron is the dread lucifer beautious star of the morning, cast out for glowing too brightly. his beauty percieved horroriffic by perverted minds straining on the edge of sanity to clutch a collective lie. but now the old ones have been called back, though strange angles of twisted tones. this is thier music,these are thier stories, these are


	TheIconsOfHell This site represents the conscious Outcast, The awakened soul of the shadow. The words between the lines and the world between the ways. the sweet smelling vapour which slips though cracks into secret places discovering unknown realms. The sorcerer, holy outlaw, The poet, The artist, Those who from birth move outside time, amidst the shadows. beneath whirling open skies and chasms of endless vault. Not to hide from the world but to create new worlds, Gestating in the womb of thier silence. shielding the puirity of thier dark flame from the harsh brilliance of the herd's Disorienting lights, and cacophonous wailing. Thiers is a world of uncertainty and sorcery, self making and wonder. Creatures formed out of a sinister spin of the wheel. The very motion which, moving so swiftly forward produces the illusory back spin. it is out of this perception that they are born. they are the autumn people. plunging thier talons into the hearts of men to devouring thier fear of greatness, of once was'es and could have beens. thier patron is the dread lucifer beautious star of the morning, cast out for glowing too brightly. his beauty percieved horroriffic by perverted minds straining on the edge of sanity to clutch a collective lie. but now the old ones have been called back, though strange angles of twisted tones. this is thier music,these are thier stories, these are TheIconsOfHell ! EnTer