And we breathe the air of this autumn evening. So bright, the cold breeze fills our hearts with ice And we hear the trees whisper and the spirits sing. The perfume to smell is full of enchantment A warm secret surrounded by cold. And these woods are our own eternity Under a starry sky in a dream so old.
Then, nightfall, enthralled by bloodthirst An eternal enigma, yet a hymn to those Who passionately roam, cloaked by the nightsky. Come on Bacchants, let us hunt in sigh. "Follow the Night-Hag, when call'd in secret Riding through the Air she comes Lur'd with the smell of infant blood, to dance With Lapland Witches, while the labouring Moon Eclipses at their charmes."
Our crimson quickening, whispering through their veins Like the funeral winds whisper through the leaves. We will hunt them for eternity, our jewels come forth of their fear And we drink their spirits like wine, celebrating their misery. ...Every night we die in a passionate melancholy...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
