Из альбома: Sphere of Nebaddon: The Dawn of a Dying Tyffereth
Cold...Pain...Hate...Clamour...
Snow...Cutting...Mountains...Distance...
Gray...Loneliness...Winter...Intensity...
Golden...Balls...Turns...Into hymns...
Monarch from the highest mountain
Play the bells
Between the eternal glaciers
In the hierarch of the night's solitudes
In the mansion that levitate in the gray sky
In the millennium nocturnal approximation
Golden bells from the eternal cold
"blow the wings that comes from faraway
...Let the souls more close
To the arrival of the great portal"
"The moon claims the nights will be eternal
Resisting by the lunar wings
The nocturnay for wounded my eyes"
"Levitation with the bells...Golden Bells from the Eternal Cold"
(Snowstorm)