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So when you die, you won't be nothing else than a sad bag with flesh, bone and blood in it. Your miserable soul will cry til the end of eternity around your remains.
You are nothing, neither I am, neither are they. What's next? Is even there something? Or just two meters underground to let our bones rest? What will be left o us?
The dead dirt of our grave without tombstone, will only serve to cover our filthy corpses, so why strive? We can start covering ourselves in dirt right now!

The bells chime anew,
and you'll be there
to fulfill the sacred oath.

You are the only truth,
bitter pill of sorrow,
the only way out.

Mysterious, you creep on the floor.
What will happen when you come?
Embrace me now in your grim arms,
save me from my torment,
drag me to the depths of dark.

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