---

Cloaked under the wings of Old,
Forever isolated from their ways,
Clinging to this life - so sterile,
Existence crowned in absolute vain.
Yet still absorbing the flourishing Wisdom,
With a gleaming grace of Iron Will,
The Key, true as the Death itself.

Can you not see the signs...?
Malign disorder is yet to be revealed!

Posses me, most Dire Ones!
Striving with an open heart
To embrace the gifts of Thee,
And with wide open craving mouth
Every drop of venom is swallowed!
That is spat in the face of ignorance.

Aversion towards this desperate place,
Creation is declined through uncreation.
Slowly drowning the human within,
Source and burden of earthy suffering.
The thorn that stabbed too deep,
The fragment that waits to be shattered.
With no remorse...

The ever-searching spirit shall rebel,
Deflying the curse of nature's arrogance!
The ever-searching spirit shall rebel,
Deflying the curse of nature's arrogance!

Posses me, most Dire Ones!
Striving with an open heart
To embrace the gifts of Thee,
And with disgust and raging anger
Every drop of venom we spit
Upon their world of ignorance.

And still they echo in mind and soul.
Silently whispering the mysterious call.
Inside the walls of this putrid shell,
They gather and burn...

And still they echo in this scorched temple
Cries of hatred, weeps of despair...
The restrained screams of Everlasting Fire,
The thousand voices of (the) Devil's Call.

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.