Is to forever creep among have mortals
In the absence of the light
Bastards in the shape of angels holding my hands
Manifest of evil presence
He who speaks of nightly treasures
A fall from paradise beyond redemption
Black unearthly void creature crawling
Infesting the dead in herds
Passing me what is left of the wine
Infesting the dead in herds
Bastards in the shape of angels holding my hands
He who pours poisonous wine in my chalice
With entities swept in disease of betrayal
A revenant without relief it seems
He who lets me serve and slip away
And so I will take shelter
He who speaks of nightly treasures
He who immersed my hands in sullen throes
Hiding like a masked miniature in the dark
For the art of becoming a progeny
He who lets me serve and slip away
Forbidden, forgotten, fairly underrated
He who wraps the serpent around my neck
Wrath child's afterglow
And to be raised in such curse
Passing me what's left of the wine
His paths on which domination linger
He who dares to prove the sanity of mine
Aah
His grandeur of guidance in round trips obscure
