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Description
oh - my dearest; the sweet music in the ear -
albeit, daresay I, the lullaby of an ever so dark sleep.

My precious,
Likest thou what emergeth yon the distant?
The throbbing and breathing of life's machinery.

Wanion its oh so damndest soul!
With the devil-instrument it we shall reap,
after the banquet obscured in our thole.
Its blood so lovingly across our faces smear.

Lord of carnage.

Lady of carnage.

One funeral maketh many,

Swarm god's acres,

Two indeed more:
blest treat of delight -

Give praise for the blood it bled.
Grant a rose for the dead.

Grant a Rose for the Dead

Description
oh - my dearest; the sweet music in the ear -
albeit, daresay I, the lullaby of an ever so dark sleep.

My precious,
Likest thou what emergeth yon the distant?
The throbbing and breathing of life's machinery.

Wanion its oh so damndest soul!
With the devil-instrument it we shall reap,
after the banquet obscured in our thole.
Its blood so lovingly across our faces smear.

Lord of carnage.

Lady of carnage.

One funeral maketh many,

Swarm god's acres,

Two indeed more:
blest treat of delight -

Give praise for the blood it bled.
Grant a rose for the dead.

Grant a Rose for the Dead