Screams pierce my dreams in the cool Minano night. Awakened in a cold sweat, my thoughts resigned. I rush to the window of my scarlet laden sanctum. Behind the curtains, silence in the twilight.
I swear I saw it, unbridled genocide, cobblestone traced in blood and virtue most defiled.
No sum of wine will alleviate the nightmares. The visions haunt my very soul, be damned, my foresight. Could the dreams be nothing more than simply fantasy born from my cicatrix of witchery?
Years and years, I have held fast, the tomes of Hell amassed. The toll they've taken on my soul is everlasting. Yet a gift of red stone, born from a crimson book, guards me in the solemn nights of which I now must sit and bide.
The screams still searing in my heart as clear as day. A bottle down, another found, yet nothing will gift aid. Rage within boils as I curse my yielding god, when a glint of flame presents itself behind my windows' refuge…
Beyond the glass, my nightmares have come true. Before me, I see the doom of which had woken me. Gripping the stone, as tears fall from my eyes, A hopeless reign of death ascending, my thoughts resigned…
Forsaken. Forgotten. Apostasy reversed. The long night of the Ebon Vale has dawned.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
