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The winter sun in flames beyond spires

Burning the elders´splendours divine desires

Toward walls their flesh is quivering for fearing

Along the row where the way leads to cleansing

It is the land where beauty is the roting flesh

Where every unplaced memory will never last

Where the great river of time ends its course

Down the vast void in starlit streams of ghosts

Where the oaks feel the pain of the living ones

At dawn they´re lurking where no men roams

A twilight gloom, in Winter season is born

Above the ice sheet lone brought by the frost

So the shewing lamplight starts to low down in the room

And also dead leaves rush in a strange, twisted gloom

Following heeding geometries of outer space

Through misticism the black spirits shall be raised

A dream of visions shunned, shew dead eyes in the darkest gulfs

Made nature inspired, bulding vaster parts under the dome

Through the ghoul gateways, past the mooned abysses of night

Lives without number, sounded all things with their only sight

Struggling in the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright

Drifted over neverending seas, under sinister grey clouded skies

Many forked lightning are rending, resounding hysterical cries

While deformed creatures, out of the green waters starts to rise

When the sky is vaporous flame, where the black planets roll without aim

Where they roll in horror unheeded, without knowledge, lustre or name