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Can we light up a black and bogie sky?

Can we tear through this darkness

Without sun, without morning?

But our souls are as tombs

That from eternity we wander,

And endless ages have they wandered by,

Yet still without pity or mercy we fight,

So mighty in death, our delight

And when the livid morning falls,

You will find alone the empty walls,

And till the evening, cold it will be.

As others with their lies,

Upon your life and youthfulness,

I'll reign alone with dread over you.

Where snails abound in a soft soil,

I will dig for myself a fathomless grave,

Where at leisure my bones I can coil,

And rest underground like the worm does.

Rather than tears from the world to implore,

I would ask of the crows with their vampire bills

To devour every bit of my carcass impure.

To Her, with pride we chant an echoing Hymn,

For nothing can touch the sweetness of her sway;

Her flesh ethereal as the seraphim,

Her eyes with robe of light our souls array.

Mystic metamorphosis

All my senses blend in one

Her voice an intoxicating perfume is,

Her breath makes music

Her, Death.