Manifest of evil presence
With entities swept in disease and decay
A fall from paradise beyond redemption
He who speaks of nightly tresures
He who wraps the serpent around my neck
He who pours poisonous wine in my chalice
He who lets me serve and slip away
...And so i will take shelter
In the absence of the light
Hiding like a masked miniature in the dark
A revenant without relief it seems
For the art of becoming a progeny
And to be raised in such curse
Infesting the dead in herdes
His grandeur of guidance in roundtrips obscure
He who immerse my hands in sullen thrills
His pat on wich domination linger
He who dares to proove the sanity of mine
He who speaks of nightly tresures
He who lets me serve and slip away
Black uneartly void creatures crawling
Forbidden forgotten fairly underrated
Bastards in the shape of angels holding my hands
Passing me wath is left of the wine
(lyrics: Silenoz)
