Mourning days of nostalgia

Drowning in the nectar of the flame
bound by the black goddess to a obscure
hymen
I leave my wishes...those haggard
tales...
wich a shelter me from the gesture of
the darkness
wich I have forgotten
...but any beauty distress withering
the empty
pictures of the life and blind me with
the
rotten blood of a dying cross.

The seminal branches of evil
embrace my dreams as a monument of all
those
nocturnal weeping in thy name I drink the
Black blood calling the fall...
At the darkest moon thou summoning all
my desires to twist the blind
lamb's aged fruit
I desire thee...as autumn tears
bewail the thy hellis decree
for years thy sorrow I have
mourned and
kissed the black bleed of thy
pale crown
embelished with the
sins of blasphemy
...but what is the
gist?...the yield of a
tearful eve,
...ingrowing
wounds in
meadows
of light...
but thou are the
night where I
have lost
perfume of
fullmoon nights
and thou
shall worship
my woe within
my forlornness.