| When the moon becomes a mass for the pentagram
|
| The rage will swell as night grows bright
|
| And it will search for those to brave
|
| And master the art of bleeding out
|
| This horrid fiend of the black would sever
|
| The wings of angels and then save souls
|
| Hunger will call on the night
|
| Tricking the gods
|
| My breath, my eye, my air
|
| Are yours to form into the shape
|
| When the moon incants it’s oath to an ancient law
|
| The end of man will be his fright
|
| And even death will cling to this master
|
| Whose stench brings nightmares to the blind
|
| And the scream of the moon elect
|
| Darkness will feed in their eyes
|
| As scream becomes their song
|
| Darkness will feed in their eyes
|
| In the night they’re beyond the fatal
|
| Darkness will feed in their eyes
|
| As scream becomes their song
|
| Darkness will feed in their eyes
|
| In the night they’re beyond the fatal
|
| Hunger will call on the night
|
| Tricking the gods
|
| My breath, my eye, my air
|
| Are yours, I’m formless now
|
| Run, run with you dusk before it is ravaged
|
| And torn from beneath you
|
| Curse, this curse of the star
|
| Feasting on mortals and tricking the gods
|
| When the moon becomes a mass for the pentagram
|
| The rage will swell as night grows bright
|
| And it will search for those to brave
|
| And master the art of bleeding out
|
| This horrid fiend of the black would sever
|
| The wings of angels and your soul
|
| When hunger calls on the night
|
| Your fatal flesh will be too torn for eyes
|
| Darkness will feed in their eyes
|
| As scream becomes their song
|
| Darkness will feed in their eyes
|
| In the night they’re beyond the fatal
|
| Darkness will feed in their eyes
|
| As scream becomes their song
|
| Darkness will feed in their eyes
|
| In the night they’re beyond the fatal |