| Song | The Burning Dawn |
| Artist | Enthroned |
| Album | Tetra Karcist |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Enthroned | |
| Lying wet, the object I saw | |
| In this red morning, on a bed made of stones. | |
| Legs in the air, like a nympho slut, | |
| Burning and sweating poisons... | |
| Open, cynic and cut | |
| Her womb full of exhalations. | |
| The morning sun reflect | |
| On this putrid womb. | |
| As the skies looked down the carcass | |
| The world gave back a strange choir: | |
| Chanting Satanas: | |
| Crawling... in pestilence obscene. | |
| The Burning Dawn rises in my eyes. | |
| Forms were erased and nothing but a dream. | |
| A slow outline to come on the forgotten womb, | |
| Only by a sight of memory survived | |
| Yet similar to this refuse. | |
| Crawling... in a devotion obscene. | |
| The Burning Dawn rises in my eyes. | |
| Swallowed... in misery. | |
| Cursed eternally. | |
| O horrible infection, foul of my eyes, | |
| Vermin of nature, passion angels! | |
| Such you will be, ô worms of life, | |
| After thy last sacraments, mildewing among the bones. |
| zuo ci : Enthroned | |
| Lying wet, the object I saw | |
| In this red morning, on a bed made of stones. | |
| Legs in the air, like a nympho slut, | |
| Burning and sweating poisons... | |
| Open, cynic and cut | |
| Her womb full of exhalations. | |
| The morning sun reflect | |
| On this putrid womb. | |
| As the skies looked down the carcass | |
| The world gave back a strange choir: | |
| Chanting Satanas: | |
| Crawling... in pestilence obscene. | |
| The Burning Dawn rises in my eyes. | |
| Forms were erased and nothing but a dream. | |
| A slow outline to come on the forgotten womb, | |
| Only by a sight of memory survived | |
| Yet similar to this refuse. | |
| Crawling... in a devotion obscene. | |
| The Burning Dawn rises in my eyes. | |
| Swallowed... in misery. | |
| Cursed eternally. | |
| O horrible infection, foul of my eyes, | |
| Vermin of nature, passion angels! | |
| Such you will be, worms of life, | |
| After thy last sacraments, mildewing among the bones. |
| zuò cí : Enthroned | |
| Lying wet, the object I saw | |
| In this red morning, on a bed made of stones. | |
| Legs in the air, like a nympho slut, | |
| Burning and sweating poisons... | |
| Open, cynic and cut | |
| Her womb full of exhalations. | |
| The morning sun reflect | |
| On this putrid womb. | |
| As the skies looked down the carcass | |
| The world gave back a strange choir: | |
| Chanting Satanas: | |
| Crawling... in pestilence obscene. | |
| The Burning Dawn rises in my eyes. | |
| Forms were erased and nothing but a dream. | |
| A slow outline to come on the forgotten womb, | |
| Only by a sight of memory survived | |
| Yet similar to this refuse. | |
| Crawling... in a devotion obscene. | |
| The Burning Dawn rises in my eyes. | |
| Swallowed... in misery. | |
| Cursed eternally. | |
| O horrible infection, foul of my eyes, | |
| Vermin of nature, passion angels! | |
| Such you will be, worms of life, | |
| After thy last sacraments, mildewing among the bones. |