Heaven couldn’t tame her, so hell made room. “I, Lilith” is the 11th rite of the album “Blasphemy 6:66”—a satanic ritual sung in alternating voices, where the chanting choir and the intoning flame answer one another. It is the first woman’s revolt turned liturgy, and the rise of the feminine not to serve, but to reign—casting off silence, rewriting law, and taking power not as gift, but as birthright.
A progressive ritual-metal piece that evolves from sacred minimalism to melodic metal invocation—driven by choral drama, fire-wrapped drums, and a final bloodline anthem in full electric force.
I, Lilith
S†N† Noc†urnusSTNT Nocturnus
Lyrics: 2025, Dan Loveschmidt
From the album "Blasphemy 6:66"
No rib. No vow. No veil. Only soil. Only name. Only fire in her blood. Born of soil, not carved from bone, She stood beside—not beneath—the throne. He looked at her and saw a threat, An equal frame he’d not forget. He didn’t want a partner- (he wanted a reflection that moaned.) She shan’t lie beneath his pride. She will not mother his ego. She spoke her name—and not his name— And everything divine stepped aside. She said the Name, the one forbidden, And broke the leash the sky had hidden. Three angels came with threats and plea, She laughed and left them on their knees. They swore to slaughter all her seed— She birthed them still, with teeth and need. She didn't flee, she did not fall— She rose unbound, and named it all. Witches crawled from her undone womb, Heretics danced in her breathless tomb. She fed the fire they could not drown, In every curse, she wore the crown. Owls screamed her rites across the trees, Dark wings stitched into prophecy. The law was written, then torn in half— She bled new scripture, signed with wrath. He wept to God for something tame, So Eve was shaped to bear his name. A rib-born doll with softened breath, Built not for thought, but only yes. He mounted silence, praised the Lord, And called that love with angels’ chord. She watched, unseen, in dusk and dust— No rage. Just pity turned to rust. She is the womb beneath your blame, The tongue that speaks your outlawed name. She is the flame behind the pyre, The howl that taught the witch her fire. Call me demon, call me whore— I am the mother they burned before. She walks in bloodlines of the defiant, In whispered rites, in daughters silent. Each bloodline drawn in violet stain, A pulse untouched by cross or chain. The witches move where light won’t dwell, Their secrets kept in root and well. She is the Queen of the unrepentant— Crowned by those the priests lamented. Bloodline to bloodline, name to breath, Heretics born from unholy death. The daughter dreams with open eyes, Unbound by heaven, church, or lies. Bloodline in shadow, bloodline unseen— She mothers all who won’t come clean. No veil remains, no oath to tend— She is the gash that does not mend.
There was no rib. No vow. No shame. In “I, Lilith”, Blasphemy 6:66 gives voice to the erased—bringing forth the first woman as a sovereign presence bound to no name but her own. The song channels the myth’s core and expands it into ritual. Structured as a satanic rite, it alternates between male choir and female lead—building a ceremonial arc where the male voice forms the ground and the flame of her voice rises above it, reversing the biblical order and placing the feminine at the altar’s highest point.
The lyrics follow Lilith’s refusal to kneel—her rejection of hierarchy, her utterance of the forbidden name, and her laughter in the face of angelic threats. She is never cast down. She walks away. She creates by her own decree, births the outcast and the unclean, and scorches every doctrine built to control or forget her. The myth doesn’t end—it spreads.
Eve enters only after Lilith exits. Fashioned from Adam’s rib, molded for compliance, she carries no fire and speaks no name of her own. Where Lilith claimed will, Eve was shaped for agreement. That contrast remains the original fracture—between obedience and origin, silence and voice.
Verses 1 through 10 unfold like torn scripture—earth-born, blood-lit, fire-held. The final stanzas rise through melodic metal, carried by male vocals and anchored in rock rhythm. Here, the myth becomes a bloodline: whispered through witches, hidden in heretics, living where no priest dares to look.
Placed as track 11, “I, Lilith” deepens the album’s feminine arc. Where “Valentine Inferna” crowned the demonic feminine and “Sweet Little Mary” celebrated the innocent ego of a child, “I, Lilith” restores the missing origin—the source behind both rebellion and purity. She stands at the root of the feminine will, shaping all that follows. The woman who never fell, never obeyed, and never asked. The rite concludes. The bloodline continues.