The tomb of man is the splendour of death
|
|
Trod their ways, walk the accursed path
|
Swirl towards the dying
|
For death the ultimate reality
|
Hides the claws which well can be used
|
|
With a mask of will
|
A recollecting mask
|
Of how learning to spread the wings
|
To feel the soul
|
To unmake old realms
|
To plague the world of man
|
|
Raised like dust but fleshed as no dust is
|
Awaiting redemption of dark ways
|
Yet what keeps me here is what glows beyond
|
That of malice which quiver when touched
|
|
The tomb of man is the splendour of death
|
|
I haul the black future towards us
|
Though leaving no traces in the corner of dawn
|
The aged earth aghast
|
It's ceaseless roaring ever fills the timeless skies
|
Yet leaving no traces in the corner of dawn
|
|
-----------------
|
Mere Are They...
|
Thy Primordial |