Album: Sphere of Nebaddon: The Dawn of a Dying Tyffereth
Here encloses all passions
Here are contained all the doubts
In each corner corroded by the time
Spirits suffers their pain
Singing always the same
Retrain of supplication and despair
The suffering still not sultryed
With the disruption of the fine deaths veil
From a extreme to the other
One by one sealthing
Sweet to their blinded eyes
Their dry throats and their mutilated
Consciences by the pain
Each parable sung in their horrible...
Music, wants to unite to the
Mold and filth of the secular walls
Their tears aren't consoled anymore
And their pungent vests rots together
Joined because they are solitarians
And alone will remain