---

In the leafy shades of a wildwood,

reflections of a distant light

A tempting celestial song

calling into the light leading to the sky

Somber, so very intense, kneeling to the ground

Gripe the soil! It turns into dust.

Desperate fingers grasping, nothing.

Escaping the vision so horrid

Wandering through a meadow of grass

On the misty ground sits a raven

Staring silently in despise, it speaks:

Denizen of demons path, inhabitant of ground at last

Never fear the horned pact,

be a part in the immense essence of life!

We are the organ pipes of living frailty:

A voice in the dark, so strong yet so fragile

Now touch the serpent’s tongue and feel a true relief!

The flower must wither, the flower must die

We are the organ pipes of living frailty:

A voice in the dark, so strong yet so fragile

Now touch the serpent’s tongue and feel a true relief!

The flower must wither, the flower must die again