Glowing eyes, staring eyes Manifest of evil presence With entities swept in disease and decay A fall from paradise beyond redemption
He who speaks of nightly treasures He who wraps the serpent around my neck He who pours poisonous wine in my chalice He who lets me serve and slip away
...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 Infesting the dead in herds
His grandeur of guidance in roundtrips obscure He who immerse my hands in sullen thrills His pat on which 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 wath is left of the wine
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