In iniquity conceived, Carried in secrecy. Kept unseeable, concealed, Given a prophecy. The bearer of secrets Would never outlive him. In the cruel face
Above the colourless cold, Through the winds of the shivering night. Stories obscure and untold Carried by ravens in flight. Finding and keeping the
Eyes of a wanderer, bones from the mud, Unmarked and crackled, bottles of blood. Unspoken words, ashes and dust, In the Collector's Chamber's disgust.
Benighted scene by the darkened lake, In the gloomfull, dispiriting black. Born from a mother not awake, Blood is the solitary track. Knifelike rain
Behold my master of atrocious damage to mankind, Witness my fury, get into my mad, sickened mind. Hold me in awe and kneel before my throne of evil sin
Something is tracing me, Chasing and trailing me. Panic within me, Horror around. Someone is reaching me, Grazing and leaving me. I hear it around me
On his throne of bones and fur The Collector is quietly seated, Prepared for the scene about to occur. In the arena of velvet and dust Awaiting the morbid
This is the frozen day's Final conclusion. This is the mist that cling to the ground. This is the final gaze On an illusion, Stillness and quiet, the
Pa flaggermusvinger over maneblatt fjell, i villfarne kast i en heksekunstkveld. Gir torke til tarer. Gir noia til fred. I brusende arer dykker hun ned
Stikker i tegn, pinner i kryss, fra barskog et rikelig naledryss. Romertall atten, sjovann og regn, gulnet papir med noyaktige tegn. Attende time, niende
Outside his chamber The torches are quenched By bitter winds and rain. Emptiness and total stillness. Silence rules in pallid dawn. The Master is finally
Med kroket rygg under fire fot sitter dokkemaker i skinnet fra en lampe som brenner veke til sot og venter at dag skal forsvinne. Satt pa hyller med
Tynne trader, mektig vapen, stille roren, mektig h?r. Smale oyne, kraftig transe, der du kommer farlig n?r. Kj?rlig biten, gift som dreper, om beroring
Glodende ildrod som argsint vulkan. Truende iskald som flyktig orkan. Klar til a fange, klar til a ta. Nar deg i spranget, spor aldri hva. Ond inntil
Langt inn i sort floyel blekner en stjerne, en and forlater en gammel mann. I sorg fraktes liket av ringrev og terne, til endelig hvile i rubiner og sand
Aurora birth, repulsive, horrid, bloody, Cradle of moss, moist with rain and red. Fog would leave his newborn, naked body, Blood would lead the wolves
Min sjel rives sakte ut i teater, spiddes til torner av hungrige skater. Bestjalet min mening, berovet mitt sinn, en grasvart forstening fra margen til
Satire, teater, illusjoner for oye angrepet, dodeliggjort. Flammehav, snostorm og kaos vil loye spadd i Demonens kort. I mitt legeme hviler en glinsende
