He fills our souls like fear of death And haunts our minds as we sleep Oblivious to the prayers we speak Indifferent to fearful's worship
Hidden afore all reminiscence Conjunction of rapture and stampede The only way out is through death A knee bent is of the bravest
The prayers we speak Tear a hole into the fabric of history Since ages immemorial A hole with a shape of fear
Yet the prayers we speak And the pleas we yell Tear also a hole in our souls A hole the size of God
As surely as grain shall turn into clay When there is no hand that feeds Once to witness that glorious day When even stone shall bleed
He guards at the veil Preventing the Living from entering He torments the mortals And lifts the veil for the dead
He consumes souls bereaved But what he flourishes remains unknown The great revealer Yet he withholds no secrets And totes no knowledgeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
