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Slow Love

de Aron Andras

1614 - The ground was spoilt
By death bodies
In union they died as they lived
The pestilential fog has spred
His wings od downfall
The wheel of death began to spin

No recreation without transtoriness
No resurrection without the chains of death
In times of despair when all the efforts fade
The strength of blood will rise up from the graves

Here I stand on the graveyard, overcrowded but restless
You can't imagine the smell
Nor regard the forces of the liquid
Dropping from the skull

Drop by drop falls into the sea of sorrow
No saving shore in sight
Welcome to my hell

In the name of the horned
I take this lives to built your throne of bones
And shall I burn in the flames of hell
My powder will find a way to the chosen

Beer and milk from the breats, yeast and blood
Countless waves of grief
Filling up the cup of pain
My altar of retaliation

Drop by drop falls into the sea of sorrow
No saving shore in sight
As I die in flames my curse will live and torment
When drop falling from the skull
Welcome to my hell

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