I beg of the lord, the truth be told
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There are no wardens stolen from the doom beyond
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Only slowly mourning, stabs that are heart stopping
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Of our greatest falling, this embarks the earth
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They remain the seals, the six cosmic signals
|
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The dead flock is built, the army
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That's falling down into a storm
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(Falling down into a storm)
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(Falling down into a storm)
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Harvest souls! Risible taunts of tireless gulps
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Harvest souls! Threat the momentary death
|
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People run from the light moving slowly out
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They don't interfere with their damning soul
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Feeding in the dark, there they will reside
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The warlord made of darts knows the sealing of things
|
|
The dead flock is built, the army
|
That's falling down into a storm
|
(Falling down into a storm)
|
(Falling down into a storm)
|
Harvest souls! Risible taunts of tireless gulps
|
Harvest souls! Threat the momentary death
|
|
-----------------
|
6 Cosmic Signals
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| Endless |
