Entering the field of blood Fog of red is in the air As the pleas of death have been faded Silence over all creation
Round the fierce fires Thunder rolling above Born from the mire We weep our final woes
Artistry to harrow, carnage and ruin Mastery to hate, torment and breed Mesmerized by horror I believe in human being
Human the amoral A source of perfect moans Earthly creations slumbering in flames
Waded into the abyss To practice the culture of the corpse Recline beneath the lawn With the ultimate curse in your throat
In the starlight's illumination I woke into the passion of obscurity And seized the coldest consolation Of sin, being and purity Ripple along the ropes of sorrow and delight
Entering the field of blood Fog of red is in the air As the pleas of death have been faded Silence over all creation
Round the fierce fires Thunder rolling above Born from the mire We weep our final woesTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
