In the moonlight laden mists of a cloudless night
Drunken parodies, beneath the discouraging celestial light
We stalk the broken forests entombed with ice and snow
Reaching the higher paths, where we plunge so profoundly low
As December dies and the frozen night does wane...
We sulk in paralyzed shadows, so Angry in the Rain
Grasping the greasy hand of life, we twirl it to an emerald grave
Forsaken little bitch, we are death, arisen to entrap and save
Conflicting tales in darkness, the moon reflects her angelic cold
Alternative visions of life, in the reddened snow the truth begins to unfold
Paint a picture of life, let existence be your canvas, and your brush a knife
Married to suffering, the cheating whore of happiness, like husband and wife
Angry in the Rain, with torrential rage and steaming breath
Forsaken with our fortunes, in the ceaseless downpours of death...