onto the street proceed
|
the hearse and limousine
|
laying in the casket, the
|
corpse of inner joy
|
questioning time
|
all hope for loving died
|
|
greying haze of the
|
autumn skies
|
stone cold hearts retract
|
amongst the knives
|
within a dream that
|
commits itself to grief
|
resurrected by a black
|
wreath...
|
|
why?
|
where?
|
how?
|
|
heaving sob-seizures
|
roused by the view
|
of true love embalmed in a
|
box
|
grovel, beg, plead for a
|
sign, but never mind
|
'cause bliss is now a word
|
left far behind
|
|
bliss buried in a sepulchre
|
customized
|
by the hand of rage
|
the birth of a violent age
|
reminds all that
|
abstinence makes the
|
heart grow floundering
|
|
perish the memory
|
scream in agony
|
love is late, love is late
|
|
a sorrow-raising surge
|
lies in the cadence of the
|
dirge
|
|
-----------------
|
(Cadence Of) The Dirge
|
| Exhorder |
