As I stood in the days of My long forgotten
And certain Death
Longing for Lost Evenings
And the Nightscapes I roamed
Towards the clouds, approaching Nothingness
A barren waste far in the Skies, Below
The Netherealms
Where the Jew has forever lain
Upon the throne of a god slain
By a Black, and rusted old Sword of Legend
Stabbed farther into his wounds
A ravaged martyr who has assumed
A position
Of Death
And certain Death
Longing for Lost Evenings
And the Nightscapes I roamed
Towards the clouds, approaching Nothingness
A barren waste far in the Skies, Below
The Netherealms
Where the Jew has forever lain
Upon the throne of a god slain
By a Black, and rusted old Sword of Legend
Stabbed farther into his wounds
A ravaged martyr who has assumed
A position
Of Death
Feeding the essence and Anima of Soul
Swept into the Vortex of extracting Might
Becoming one with Its inner Dimension
Where It was used to punish the light
I wielded the Sword, Night Aeternal
Enemy to all who oppose It
I brandished the Sword, Night Aeternal
Enemy to all who embrace It
Frozen to the Nightshade stuck to My Lips
I entrusted this Shell to the shuddering Seas
Far warmer than my living breath ensnared
Whose dying heartbeats
Belonged to the Sword and the Soulless Beneath
Enslaving all who dared to unsheathe
Its Satanic Wisdom and Malice upon the Realms of Future and Past
Feeding the essence and Anima of Soul
Swept into the Vortex of extracting Might
Becoming one with Its inner Dimension
Where It was used to punish the light
I wielded the Sword, Night Aeternal
Enemy to all who oppose It
I brandished the Sword, Night Aeternal
Enemy to all who embrace It
Frozen to the Nightshade stuck to My Lips
I entrusted this Shell to the shuddering Seas
Far warmer than my living breath ensnared
Whose every heartbeat
Belonged to the Sword and the Soulless Beneath
Enslaving all who dared to unsheathe
Its Satanic Wisdom and Malice upon the Realms of Future and Past
In the skies of a Dying Millennium World
My Blade sought the lives that It seeked
To feed Its Hungry Ego
As a Plutonian Tide that would never recede
Claiming hundreds and billions of lives
And the rest of the world that planned to survive
Their "Aeternal" cycles of Death
Fallen many lives ago in the Shadows once confined
To the Netherealms towards a spirit sheam
Of a lost and worthless cause
Jehovah marched upon the lands assuming
he would triumph over (a) Sword consuming Its Master
Who used His Lord well
Encontrou algum erro na letra? Por favor envie uma correção clicando aqui!