Holy candles fading
We are turned to stone forever
In a vein where death drips into a shape of the saint who is baptised in fever
The pattern of condemnation indescribable
Because you are looking for the mountain and the nails beneath the stars
Black crosses leaning towards the triumph
And once more you crawl and
Scramble on the earth's wounds
Spitting sulphur and the birds of prey accompany
The defilement
Profanation
The soul within its
Horizon of pain
We are turned to stone forever
In a vein where death drips into a shape of the saint who is baptised in fever
The pattern of condemnation indescribable
Because you are looking for the mountain and the nails beneath the stars
Black crosses leaning towards the triumph
And once more you crawl and
Scramble on the earth's wounds
Spitting sulphur and the birds of prey accompany
The defilement
Profanation
The soul within its
Horizon of pain
( Funeral Hearse )
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