Alive without breath,
colder than death,
under a funeral moon
a revelation of doom.

Ancient histories of torment
in forgotten tongues lament
the pestilent corpses unknown
in the shadow of the Dark Throne;
under the shadow of Darkthrone.

Standing high above the world,
the siege perilous, acrimonious.
Crawling low beneath the world,
the followers of the cult of death.

Alive without breath,
colder than death,
across the funeral sky
the blackened demons fly.

Haluaisitko kommentoida? Rekisteröidy käyttäjäksi tai kirjaudu sisään

Kirjaudu