On the black wings of nightsky The horde was riding across to me And darkness slowly have risen Under feet of them My life is fallen to pieces by Descending black fog Which drains the fragments of lost Ideas out of me Breathing the air of the kings clearing I feel that I am uniting With the essence of black forest And cruel mother winter At the cemetery Of thousand tombs of false idols In flow of morbid and terrific hate I see the weak god in tears And his son dripping with filthy blood I desecrate them in possession of unholiness The priests of compassion hanged Fluttering in the winds of night In hell created for them By unholy beings Only ruins remain instead of churches Battlefields on their sacred places Deathwinds are filling me With this most beautiful vision Candles enlighten the dark And the fullmoon which appeared above To enhance the funeral of forlorn ideas of christ Which has been imbibed By the pure black soil And I became lord of woods and dark fog Ultimate union in the shadow Of wooden thrones Has created mighty spiritual strength And when the candles expired And the moon became pale I found myself walking to the Gates of black heavens Led by phantoms of the wood And hateful storm But now I was one of them
black, deathwinds, idea, fog, candle