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She wears a willow under winter's funereal burden |
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Embosomed in cold and lightless chamber |
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Washes her face with her own tainted blood |
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Chalice of Ambrosian wine is empty like wish for life |
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Inwoven eyes flow scarlet nectar |
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As heaven screams enfolding divine murder |
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Art thou drunk from suffering of thine? |
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For thy tounge speaks the tounges of those forgotten to Hades |
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Thou bury a curse together with thy body |
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Slowly bleeding she watches moonlit fields from her window |
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Gaunt and pale draped in black vapour |
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Freezing heath stands dauntless at dying eve |
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She's running out the threads of life |
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Passing through the gates of ethereal mist |
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She's running out the threads of life |
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Passing through the gates of ethereal mist |
