Sun shines no more.
Above the cryptic moon storm,
over the coldest shinning belief.
Sorrow drifts in my beloved will.
The horn blows the hymns of battle,
and the millinium spirits rise beyond.
The glare of silent mathces the skepter.
As I dream the sodomy.
The artic frezees all in sight,
as I dream the non shinning sunshine.
Creeping the fog with no existence,
and no return for us at all.
Sun shines no more,
beneath the coldest artic continent.
Sun shines no more,
down the darkest gate of sodomy.
Above the cryptic moon storm,
over the coldest shinning belief.
Sorrow drifts in my beloved will.
The horn blows the hymns of battle,
and the millinium spirits rise beyond,
and the creeping fog with no existence
takes us to no return at all.