|
This morbid night melancholy |
|
Moon of funeral broods |
|
Mist rising from the swamps |
|
Where superstitions are alive |
|
Frogs and crickets please me |
|
Though not long will my ears hear |
|
Not long will |
|
I howl at the moon |
|
The end already creeps on my tongue |
|
Between old suffering trees |
|
I still see that which reminded me |
|
Of a time sorrow had reigned |
|
With hope crushed underneath |
|
A regent to the throne of black memory |
|
Lost, forgotten and waiting for |
|
Hell Asking why |
|
I left at all |
|
Where are my weapons and dreams |
|
There is no death to save me |
|
I have never lived |
|
Obire Pestis |
|
Morbid night melancholy |