Gathering at the ruins of a once holy house
Desacration, sacrilege, burnt ground
Black ashes spawned from a curse ablaze
An act of spontaneous and relentless hate
Gathering of the impious servants
In his sadistic shadow praising death

“i’ve tasted the passion of inverting…
I was never blinded by the disgusting light…
The more i breathe the less i live…”

Gathering at the ruins of a self destroyed life
Starved, strangled and two withered eyes
Collapsing by the pain of frozen blood
Embraced by agony and its consequence
Disgusted and tired of the fleeitng life
Hanged from a tree praising the cruetly of him

“i’ve tasted the passion of inverting…
I was never blinded by the disgusting light…
The more i breathe the less i live…”

Hear the tread of those lonesome men
Walking siletntly through your mortal thoughts
Hear the voice of ended lives
The voice that spoke for the last time
Follow the footsteps of those lonesome men
Follow them into the dark