Standing in the Heads of the graves, As I count the Universal Dreamscapes,
I watch the Silent Journey of Souls, with Joy an Pity for their Eternal quest.
A thousand years of Misery ago, I was Created From Moon Dust.
My Mother was the blood of my enemies, and the Fire of the sun, my Father.
An invisible chain forged in thorns, embrace and unite my crimson memory,
to the crypts of Insanity and delirium, where I can't find the Reality..
Dark Motions, Black eyes, and and mournful Lust, The wings of solitude.
I'm cursed to follow the Dead, to see how they vanish to their Destiny..
To feel and envy their final trip, 'coz I'm not allowed to see the final gate.