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Robe of Ectoplasm
Spiritus Mortis
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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I dreamt of death
In all of the different forms
I was proud to hear
Death's call
Burning cunt
Tastiest wine
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Nothing can bring me
Back to life
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I need fever, I need all the lust
All the old age and all the dust
I need visions
I need sights
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I need cramps
Delusional nights
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Sweat, cold sweat, cold sweat
Sweat, cold sweat, cold sweat
Rapture in the resonance, horns of the holy mountain
Under the flick of the switch, going against the grain
I loom beneath
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The waving feathers of darkness
I remain in silence
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And watch as the pale knight rises
I find my pleasures
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In the withering flowers, or fresh graves
I have no fear inside
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Just deep gasps of black and purple haze
Dying fathoms of the heavens underneath
Robe of ectoplasm running down my cheek
My secret love for the dead
After you're gone, I come standing by your bed
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