Into the night, so cold and mysterious. Deep in the thick smoke, far beyond the mountains, under the grey horizon a funeral procession; followed by the path marked by sorrow dark figures in black robes, singing the psalms of hate.
They carry the white bones covered by dust. Bones that remember the white dawn. The bones that shakes the old coffin.
A wrathful soul, a wandering wolf like a blade in the dark behind the trees. The call of revenge! The spectre full of disgust.
Like a wind and burning storm. Like the dust covered the skull – it comes, a herald of dread.
Soon the cold and putrid grave appears in the dark. Prepared for a ritual burial ceremony, under the stars that howl.
...that howl from the void of black space – dead, all is fucking dead!
