Nothing is truth, sermons illusionary Details outrun in abnormality Words empty of meaning Mystery rises only where ignorance rules Beholding silent
I am the throne in the foot I am the blur in the sight I am the worm at the root I am the thief in the night I am the rat in the wall The lepper that
All beneath a wintering sky Follow the wastrel butterfly With vermilion leaf or bronze Tatters of gorgeous gonfalons With the winds that always hold
When the night will bring a while of my end I will fulfill my fate in the hands of death The only thing filling my heart Is a desire to see you dying
Stepping through my dream to the hyperspace Entering the cosmic fog of universe Tumbling into the deep abyss of darkness Departing to the outermost black
Said the dreamer My dreams were nests or horror, Whimsey-wrought With orts and shreds From old abysses brought Where eyries built by condor-winged awe
[Instrumental]
At birth a witch lain on me monstrous spells And I have trod strange highroads all my days Turning my feet to grey, unholy ways I grope for stems of
Gleaming shell of an autumn lie Fable of right divine You gained your crowns by heritage But blood was the price of mine The throne that I won by blood
Between the windy, swirling fire And all the stillness of the moon Sweet witch, you danced at my desire Turning some weird and lovely rune As in the
We are the damned - the strain and moil That death had washed from earthly toil Drawn down by tides of hell, we boil Like toads within a torrid slime
