Polished in melody, poisoned in message. “For Chr*st’s Sake!” dresses rebellion in a melodic metal skin—a pretty sermon masking a bitter gospel. Here, prayer turns to mockery and guilt gets hacked at its divine source. From their second album “Blasphemy 6:66”, S†N† Noc†urnus of Collective Unreal delivers a hymn of defiance: no saviors, no shame, just free will. Chr*st reads as a censored curse—a word too sanctified to stand, too filthy to follow.
Set 10th at the album's heart, just past the blaze of raw rebellion, it tempers the masculine will—where defiance sheds its gender and claims the human soul's right to rule itself.
For Chr*st's Sake!
S†N† Noc†urnusSTNT Nocturnus
Текст: 2025, Dan Loveschmidt
От албума "Blasphemy 6:66"
(intro — preacher narrates) Let us pray to the Lord our God… for Christ’s sake. (verse 1) Help me, Christ! Take the wheel! Save me from free will—make the deal. Jobs, kids, floods, erections— Solve it all, divine connection. Guilt won’t wipe, the stain runs deep— I tithe my doubt, now earn my sleep. For Christ’s sake—do intervene. I’m just a lamb. Programmed to obey and believe. (chorus) For Christ’s sake—I’ll take it from here! My will, my wrath, my holy sneer! (verse 2) Water into whine, bread into guilt, Your blood’s still staining my free-built quilt. Your miracles smell like mildew wine, Dead fish parades and pantomime. Baptize me in ash and vice— Not water. Fire. That will suffice. Guilt is not original—it’s installed. And I just hacked the source and called. (chorus) For Christ’s sake—I’ll take it from here! My will, my wrath, my holy sneer! (verse 3) I heard your voice in static lies, A shepherd screaming lullabies. “I died for you,” but you forgot— You never asked, and I did not. Your crown of thorns fits like a gag, Silencing will beneath a flag. No savior walks, just hollow shoes— And faith is just the right to lose. (bridge — chant and whisper) (whispered) Christ save us… Christ save us… (growned) HE WON’T. (spoken) I will. (final chorus) For Christ’s sake—I’ll take it from here! My will, my wrath, my holy sneer! For Christ’s sake—I’ll take it from here! My will—my name—I crown the sphere! (outro) My will be done, on Earth, as it is untethered.
Guilt is not original—it’s installed.
“For Chr*st’s Sake!” rips open the myth of divine authority and exposes the parasite beneath: obedience sold as virtue, submission masked as grace. This isn’t just mockery—it’s reclamation.
The track stands as a turning point in the album - “Blasphemy 6:66” - where theatrical blasphemy meets lived philosophy. Its voice is masculine, but its message is universally human: power begins where guilt ends. You don’t beg for grace—you choose your will. This follows in steps LaVey’s first principle: "Indulgence instead of abstinence." Not as appetite, but as conscious sovereignty.
To reject Chr*st is not just to reject a savior—it’s to reject the need for one. The prayer becomes a punchline, the gospel gets recompiled from its refactored source, and the sacred name itself—censored and defanged—sits like a relic in the mouth. Chr*st reads like a curse because it functions like one: a word used to bind thought, to invoke guilt, to crush will under inherited shame.
Here, that curse is broken. Not with fire and fury, but with clarity and refusal. This is Satanism in its purest form—not worship, but recognition. Not rage, but release. The divine is not above—it emanates from within. Will is not granted—it is claimed.
“For Chr*st’s Sake!” is the laugh in the cathedral, the hack in the source code, the first human voice after centuries of whispers.