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Chimes of leadenbells are calling me,
while drenched by the stench of death,
I’m getting closer to You,
as my blood washes your tears away.
Crystalline tinkling, alluring,
Divides and unites,
As familiar as the hoarfrost,
that Nothingness takes shape from.

That cold touch consecrates me,
and I know its owner awaits,
to show me paths
with frozen fingers.
Putrid recommencement, tormenting,
with its pleasure I shall be thy slave.
Nothing had been there where I come from,
Empty are the corners of dimensions.

All your colours were wrapped into darkness,
you buried destiny into bones
Tiamat, thy thousand faces,
Splendour with suffering entwined.

Over the Leadenbells,
the song of Death draws near,
with them,
forgotten sounds of evil.
Thy crystalline blackness,
it’s the tone of passing, here,
underneath…

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