Roaming the silent halls of this world,
from crypt to cradle, the secrets of life
I drink in.
Preying on this produce of sunlight,
although forever doomed to these
vast winterhalls of Longing… and Despair.
I cast no shadow,
when in this world of shadows.

Even withdrawn into sanctuary
there is no security.
For one taste of your suffering I can wait
a thousand years…
and have done so, before this night …
an eternity spent bathing in blood,
yet more I still crave.
My enormity is a spectre all its own.

The wolves are howling.
Bats encloak the night.
The fullmoon rises to its diabolic peak,
and the vapours envelope us lovers,
the Undead and the Dying.

Embracing your loins in passion,
my blood-smeared lips smile
with the wisdom borne of darkness.
In your grey eyes,
I see distant millennia reflected,
and the weaves of fate hold no mystery.

When this world is Dead, and Dying still,
and the long-awaited confluence
of sea and sky is at hand,
I, supreme malefactor,
shall leave my ancient tomb.
And while the wold burns,
to the stars I’ll turn.

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