The path... the circle...
The cemetary... blasphemy

As the calm light from the skies is darkened by the grey clouds
The balance of life and death now only maintained by darkness
The ground of the dead is waiting for an entry...
Entry of those who have passed... entry of the dead...

They once drew the goat...
Craving... in lust, with fear
They once drew the goat...
The voice, the horror, the horns.

The parade of faceless thin shadows was moving slowly
Floating silently as repeating their funeral journey
Surrouded by the black burial chambers
The monuments built in honour of time and it's deathly touch

As the mist is floating on these endless alleys of creepers and fallen leaves
Soon would it withdraw into the dark burial chambers
Lost are the blinded on this funeral landscape
This desolate ground slowly would lose their tracks
To wander they chose in the darkness below

They once drew the goat...
The key... the rite...
They once saw the goat...
The path... the end

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