"Nós os ossos que aqui estamos, pelos vossos esperamos"
Como um pântamo fétido e morto
Estagnado e em adoração ao luar
Exalava um leve cheiro adocicado a cemitério
Um odor de podridão impregnava o ar
Hearted with pain in nocturnal ways
Conceived to a thousand deaths
To mourn the loss like a mellow fruit
Thus rotting carcass in fullmoon imagery
Thirteen candles support a magana in enchanting sorcery
An ebbing coronach vagrant to fatbom and to raise the dead
Oh Death, art thee cold and pale as a wintry dawn
Under the glow of a poisoned sun in agony
Lust with mortandity as to love and rapture abandoned
Lyricism, madonna lily, roses and carnation burn
Hammer in skullcrushing episodes and bestial warlust
Benighted and anguished fragrance, the scent of wolves
Fallen with the mist upon the graves as higher goes Astarte
Moonlight adorns the dead and embraces them in slumber
Madalenna reborn into the night
Revirgined to orgy the dead
Engraving in the oldest oak the lore of eternity
Mother of the dead in sunsets like blood
In grieving gardens as jewels of the blackest kind
Nemesis - "Now free to hunt the sheep"
O luar banba a pele putrefacta de morte
Flores funebres fedem e libertam vapor
Num jardim onde o purgatório é a sorte
Feridas mortais suam e supuram de dor
The drakon hissed
Descending to smothered glade
Glistening in supernal bliss
To awe the throng by the blade
Clung and benighted with the nether darkness
Of tattered, rend carcasses' caress
To leche the Eden and plunder all beauty
Doth the serpent ravish the light
By the dew of dusk benight
The sun bled away in wane to be
Seven banshees sing in seven silvered dresses
Seven deaths to follow the path to the grave
Seven witches dance to seven deadly songs
In seven burning pentagrams as seven moonlight shadows darken
Penumbrant circles close
For the beast to be crowned
Thirteen nails as thorns of oxidated iron
Left to rest
Mortals lie in sombre graves
Flowers for the sun bleeding away
We bones that here lay, for yours await...
In shapes so hideous and snowpale skin - a corpse
Lover of shadows and all utter darkness
Oh Death, art thee cold and bloodless and pale
Not a light dwells but the glow of thy scythe
Carnation, roses and lilies burn
Rapine voyeur of the night
Focused to hunt the feeble
The queen, whore temptated to taste the scent of virginity
Hecate in her celestial grave observing the falling mist
Embracing the dead in their slumber
Moonlight adorns the dead
Thus the drakon hissed
Lo! The descending and misty glade
Glistening in celestial bliss
To awe the flocks by the blade
By the dew of sunset benight
Doth the serpent ravish the light