As the martyrs tremble With fears of the torment awaiting Their stakes are looming Turning pride to remorse, But the choice Is made
Their righteous piety fading For their souls shall burn at dawn Will their God be waiting? Like the sun of death: Demise! About to rise
No phoenix rising...
"Black fire consumes us Enslaves us to unbearable pain Can't anyone end me and send my soul away?" In the howls and whispers of the dying You hear me scream: "Grant me the gift of death"
No phoenix rising!Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.