Glowing eyes, staring eyes

Manifest of evil presence

With entities swept in disease and decay

A fall from paradise beyond redemption



He who speaks of nightly treasures

He who wraps the serpent around my neck

He who pours poisonous wine in my chalice

He who lets me serve and slip away



...And so I will take shelter

In the absence of the light

Hiding like a masked miniature in the dark

A revenant without relief it seems

For the art of becoming a progeny

And to be raised in such curse

Infesting the dead in herds



His grandeur of guidance in roundtrips obscure

He who immerse my hands in sullen thrills

His pat on which domination linger

He who dares to prove the sanity of mine



He who speaks of nightly treasures

He who lets me serve and slip away



Black unearthly void creatures crawling

Forbidden forgotten fairly underrated

Bastards in the shape of angels holding my hands

Passing me wath is left of the wine