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Glowing eyes, staring eyes |
|
Manifest of evil presence |
|
With entities swept in disease and decay |
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A fall from paradise beyond redemption |
|
Wrathchild's afterglow |
|
He who speaks of nightly treasures |
|
He who wraps the serpent around my neck |
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He who pours poisonous wine in my chalice |
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He who lets me serve and slip away |
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...and so i will take shelter |
|
In the absence of the light |
|
Hiding like a masked miniature in the dark |
|
A revenant without relief it seems |
|
For the art of becoming a progeny |
|
and to be raised in such curse |
|
Is to forever creep among naive mortals |
|
Infesting the dead in herdes |
|
His grandeur of guidance in roundtrips obscure |
|
He who immerse my hands in sullen thrills |
|
His paths on wich domination linger |
|
He who dares to prove the sanity of mine |
|
He who speaks of nightly treasures |
|
He who lets me serve and slip away |
|
Black unearthly void creatures crawling |
|
Forbidden forgotten fairly underrated |
|
Bastards in the shape of angels holding my hands |
|
Passing me what is left of the wine |
