It's getting cold again and those wolves howl once more. They can smell the flesh and they can smell the death upon the flesh. I am the keeper of souls and the god of the dead. I will stack the bodies as high as the sky, and their blood will run cold beneath my feet as I lay them down for the eternal sleep. Covered in dirt, unable to rise and encased in the monument of the dead. Where the reaper toils, I stand by awaiting his kill. They beg mercy for their lives, as I am the passage to the realm of the dead but I will not waver. It was not I who killed them but it is I who will assure them never to walk again...never to rise. The wolves are coming again, awaiting fresh blood...awaiting the endless stream of corpses beneath the soil. But alas, the wolves will wait eternity...for where the dead lie...the dead remain.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
