Из альбома: Plague, Waste and Death

A silver-grey moonlight breaks in the boughs of the trees
To see a little girl praying to god
The death of the blazing flames cunning with falsity

And stain by the devil's mark
Her hair is golden fair, her eyes shine like the stars in the sky
And therefore they cut her hair, pricked out her eyes
And in a coffin of glass they have her beauty buried alive
In a land far away a countess celebrate in victory
And send her sneer to the stars
The grave since overgrew with branches and weed and an enchanted angel
Lick the blood from the sword
Shadowed evening glow, the stars show like needle splits in the curtain of night
At the mourning the sun shove over the mountains like a prisoner of god
And the grave stands open wide
A lament just done, ramble through her darkest nights
Her fate to honour, to go for her beauty life
Through the forests pass an hazy foreign fog
On the horizon announce bloodred the dark
Irresistable devour wrath and sorrow through her heart
Her angelic look be robed and now she's blacker than the night
Then with your beautyness now adorn another wife
Dreams obvious the gate, the ruse of love undo
To a man disguise she sleep with her every night
And get with every time a piece of her beautyness back
She refresh on her thighs and kiss the lips of her cunt
Outwit her lust, in dreams ejaculate, to fill her soul with new light

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