Deadly Flowing Whispers, reveal the subtlety of cloud-laden peace
Lacking dream, purpose and vision, consciousness unveils its curse
Life flails us into a trance, we stumble with a passion to fall and die
Charmed by its lovely falsities, without the sense to question why
Anguished, these desperate last days, the frayed pages of life flap in the wind
Solitude, the treasure of one alone, to be set afire with its undesirable pleasure
Upon the banquet of misery, we feast upon the fruits of our tragedy
The wine of damnation, so lush and ripe, we drink from its chalice overflowing
Force fed our grim fate, we devour each other with voracious hunger
In cold-burning, untimely December, we sit and try to remember
Our blissful creed of damnation, we're awakened to eternal sleep
The succubus smiles with her truth, as the maiden of life begins to weep
Awful, our joyous yearning, to join the rats at our feet
Vermin brothers, we sympathize, and praise the magic of your touch
Reap the crop of man, might the Black Death be awakened from its medieval tomb
Vengeance be yours blighted brother, the hand of the land stretches out for your return
The village gates lie open for thy arrival, with streets decorated in delightful filth
Lord of pestilence, let your hood fall and step off your furry steed
Flea-ridden scourge of a black miracle, ominous friend lurking in the weeds...
Deadly Flowing Whispers, reveal the exhausted treasures of endless days and nights
Lacking salvation, love and hope, so deep our descent, in Heaven's fallen heights...