Cold that covers its stench
With hidden, rocky stone-edge
That euts the flesh.
Hiding firechambers
Dead thronehetors
Falling into an abyss of walley
Down to a land of eternal frost
He appeared from the fog
He got lost in the fog, soulkilling shadows
He bore his bloody sacks upon his back
Bore as it was a joy
A plunder, from what he fills the space.
Whatever he's called.
Doesn't care about it
A damned won't find
Battle against him
Hell is home
Where a sullen couldness dwells
A shadow initiated to be bearer
By a holy arm that created a world
Became like the empire
Of eternal sin.
From the twilight of sullen Hell
The shadow breaks up
Takes sacks wet of blood
In his serving fury |
