When darkness falls the dead shall rise
To resurrect thy reason,
Then
When the fires of Hell have burned to the core,
And
[There are no words]
Take these hooks from my flesh,
Cast across the ring of
Take thy pick and dig thy grave,
All sense dies in
[There are no words]
I am the silence that enshrouds thee
in moments of deep
Should I follow my heart to the ends of the
Wounded by pleasure in flower of youth,
Measure for measure, tortue
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