For the undead cannot bear the day.
And their skin boils in the rays of the sun.
While they fall from their ranks upon our feet.
Burning in the mid days heat.
Rather their smell of their burning flowers takes its place,
and the skies are blood red with fury.
For the heavens have never seen such a horror.
Their soul sit as torches reminding their kind,
what awaits them beyond the gates.
But night brings a abyss for they...
To only be heard by the dead ear,
and our fallen brother at our side.
(when the walls are closing in)
Muttering choir of the slepless dead
(when insanity's setting in)
you can do whatever it takes,
i don't matter is all coming down,
and it's al caving in with that hideous sound.
(amidst the fear)
And my face alight with terror
(I can still hear)
the catacombs are tumbling down.
The dead are standing down.
They let loos a terrible sound.
Upsetting the lives of the lifeless remains.
Emphatic voices inside my head
muttering choirs of the living dead.
And i can feel them again roaring with agony.
And... It's... It's such a wonderful harmony.
The dead are rising now
They raise up to that familiar sound of