Yagan - The Autumn Moon

Riding on the back of the winged reaper
At night losing track of false time
Devouring the souls of the pitiful
That rummage through the bones of our waste
A cry of delight and great wonder
At the bleeding wounds of the fallen
The time of great suffering upon us
Has filled me with lusts of carnal design

Ah! what beauty
To make love to the Autumn moon...

Gripping my cloak tight in my fist
Enveloping the moon in red mist
In every home hides a victim
In every dark street lies potential
I grow in the shadows as an ogre
Stripping fresh flesh from their bones
Cock throbbing hard with consumption
Til light calls me back to my earthen throne

Ah! What glory
To be born under an Autumn moon...