| Death In Torment |
| | With my haunting memories
I'm still staring into a narrowing funnel
Where bats fly
Look at my plated face
Eaten by rain and rust
Washed by a blye glacial torrent
My shadow is pinned against a sweating wall
With all the immensity of feelings in my heart
No one could satisfy my excessive thirst for blood
My carnal lust for the incarnadine
I step onto the freshly frozen snow
You'll not see my footsteps to follow
I'm the hay in the mass of green grasses
I've seen everything from dark to blazing bright
I strike down with the power of falling stones
I see you lying in the heat of the sun
Your odour spread in the air
A scent beloved by vultures |
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