Forests of obscure origin
A land covered in ice and green
Where one is to summon the Satanic cult
And destroy the path of man
Lunar and spacial
The wind strangulates the human flesh
In a forest of necromancy
And nocturnal art of isolation
Speak to the purity of air . . .
In the night's siren
Master of the dark moon's shine
Unholy Glistening and Bright
As much as the land, a desolate utopia
Beneath the twilight dawn
Speak the the purity of air . . .
In the night's siren
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