Follow the path towards the solitude, thou shall feel cursed if betrayed. But when I betray call the Martyr to weep, to bury the scars thru never ending seasons of grief, then Ill follow the black path towards horizon dark and Ill reach only sadness, as mourning dwells in me. Like a love lost in the cold, thru the grim shadows of old, shadows that whisper of souls. Like a love lost in the cold, that strength less I shall behold thru years of darkness or filtrate light, its always been easier to close the eyes, rather than open them and see what thou never ever wanted to see... Once felt the weight of thy age, call the Martyr to laugh and dance upon thy graveyard of shame. For love was lost and life was won, all the other things are shades to be gone and the path of mourning longs for more... Come here Mephisto, come here Mephisto, dance thy particular waltz upon my ridiculous grave. Spirit and flesh are now rotting, their abode is so far, shall I find it? For the path I am walking, its so lonely and bleeding, the griefs overwhelming and sadness is crying, thou can taste all my sorrow for my life is so empty, empty like words that are buried with loss. Turn on thy back all thats shown is regret and the shadows of death are unleashing their powers NOW! Like a love lost in the cold, thru the grim shadows of old, shadows that whisper of souls. Everything gone and never to return, heres the coldness and the bleakness of it all, a constant prelude to agony, a following of seasons of apathy, cruel are the eyes of misery, black are the wings of my destiny, primordial tears come out as knives... The left half of the heart in the left hand, the right half of the heart in the right hand... OBSCURITY Mourning dwells in me, Obscurity A lifelong misery, Obscurity bleeding the soul away... Feeling the dusk coming out from my bones, crushing everything that Im holding inside and then going back again... Feeling the dusk coming out from my bones, crushing everything I am holding inside and all left behind seem to come back again... When senses are blinded and feelings distorted call the Martyr to show thee the real true existence, hypnotic delusions are blessed with confusion, another landscape is silent with intent of revelation, groping ones way towards the wastes of life, why this seems to have no end? Groping ones way towards the wastes of life, please help me inhale the true existence!...
thru, obscurity, thy, mephisto, towards