Holy water, spilled on her, was the savior in the last minute
Holy idol, slapped on her, was the exorcism for this filth of Satan
But all they heard was demon's laughing, through the mask, on the cart
She turned aside; rejected to send her kiss on the sacred idol.
At last they set fire all over her
She was dead, bursting into igniting scream
Though I didn't find out, the demon or truth in her eyes
It hurt me by her fear and the momentary awareness
The souls we reaped, could never rest in peace
The torment brought by the netherlord lasted forever and ever

ACT II. Diabolus Melancholia

I stand for the highness in the goat
I pray for the war cry from my soul
visionary fever is dancing around
melting my eyeballs in heat of whirl
domine inside has wildly grown
infused my faith on the weeping cross
predator's minions try to erase your sigh
i could see them repent in the sight of thou
the day that beast was cured in my hands
in the past age bleak bane not arrived
I felt my courage flowing inside
to follow your path of infinite black
the talking hamster, boiling river,
skyfall of scarlet like violated virgin,
marvellous wonders I ever dreamed
I could built them in the guidance of thou
by the trust in deep I was invulnerable
at the mercy of the mad world burying my woe
dark wand gigs up through my pray
sonnets of fallen weaved in tongue
with solid faith to lord inside
on their fragile winning I despise
warriors of the circle,
by the blood on covenat we unite
by the piety and unbreakable spirits
been armmed on us
we carry in front
of predator's ignorant hounds
we are the last standing forts
until dominie's force arrive
in battle as isolated straw
braveness spilled was reaped by foe
dark light didn't shine on ground
to bring us dawn for the final triumph
millions in our kin were down
predator's zealots flood the land
I pray for myself and the martyr around
would your kindness take us to the promised void
the lunar is hiding in smoke of the air
the last weary raven disappears in the woods.
requiem of the silence, is placating the wounded
maybe I just miss you, in forever craving
dust to dust though I was not born in dark gray
ashes to ashes but why on path of the flame
annihilated soma, withering conciousness
let them fade away with my sacred faith

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