|
The dead speaks to me |
|
From beyond the grave |
|
That is what my conscience is |
|
I've buried the dead alive |
|
The blood of the child is pure now |
|
In death it gives me life |
|
The circle is complete |
|
Begin another ... |
|
Dark cold icy death |
|
As the scorpion stings the minds obsessed |
|
A venomous kiss of profane grace |
|
As shades of hatred reigns |
|
Silent screams of suffering |
|
I stand in flames of torturing |
|
Goddess of flesh hunger and desire |
|
Grant me wings of hellish fire |
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Know that all my creations spring |
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From blood on the cross in blasphemy |
|
I am death the creator of sin |
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And of the pure I am the wind |
|
The dance of creeping shadows |
|
Enchanting all insania |
|
I've become evil in soul and mind |
|
In a demonoid fantasia |
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A venomous kiss of profane grace |
|
In a world so fundamentally weak |
|
I see no beginning only the end |
