Nahash - Mors

Why it is raining in blood?
Why the birds are rending the eyes?
Why the flame is cold?
Why soul is calling upon evil?

You stand on the mountain at midnight,
A cold wind of demons rends your soul.
Thousand of stars are reflected in your eyes,
The infinity of black horizont calls you upon...

The last sunset,
The last pain
In your eyes.

The last word,
The last howl
from your inside.

You think you falling into the abyss,
A cold fire burns your inside.
Thousand of remembrances fly past in an instant,
But that's already not your memory.

The pain streams in your veins.
Huge number of silver moon's rays
Rends the mind into a lot of small parts.
Exterminating your old beeing.

Your howl — That's the pain of Beast,
You call the night, you call the darkness.
Your eyes — That's the Gates of Evil,
You call liberty, you call the death.