I speak to those who dream
Of touching death's terribly cold lips
I speak to those who flirt with life
Always suspicious and with the feeling
That something is watching us in the cracks of reality
I speak to those who make sacred what is impure
And impure what is sacred
I speak to those who dare to whisper
The name of the ancient majesties of chaos
I speak to those whose tireless philosophy of life
Is to crush once-pure hearts with the incessant beating of nails
I speak to those tormented living
In the sensory nightmare
I speak to those who fear
The controller of human dreams
I speak to those who wish to destroy
The natural order of the astral plane
You are guided into the den of loathing and emptiness with a mind paralyzed in funereal ecstasy
Fear lights your way, but at the arcane vision every atom in your body collapses
Glimpse the splendor of your majesty death
It who spits the poison of self-denial into the wounds of the righteous
Life, dignity and honor annihilated with cosmic stars as witnesses
The tragic gleam of your eyes, now gives way to complete bitterness
