Blood and gold – as he wishes He opens the drapes of sunken ages With dusts of hatred it will agitate Burning liquid knocking over the chalice Hunched postures of shadows elate Drunk with milk of thoughts of glories - To come, Devil wielding the almanac - Of evil, standing on pantheons of flames Never he nor without place, always In suns of extinct kingdoms Black soups of horizon seethe, Bearing Turmoil with skies viscous with blood
Sheep going to the slaughter, their banners Dried with battle fervors, rifted To the spike, for which with certainty In this heat harvest will be no moreTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
