Follow the path towards the solitude, thou shall feel cursed if betrayed. But when I betray call the Martyr to weep, to bury the
scars thru never ending seasons of grief, then I'll follow the black path towards horizon dark and I'll reach only sadness, as
mourning dwells in me. Like a love lost in the cold, thru the grim shadows of old, shadows that whisper of souls. Like a love
lost in the cold, that strength less I shall behold thru years of darkness or filtrate light, it's always been easier to close
the eyes, rather than open them and see what thou never ever wanted to see... Once felt the weight of thy age, call the Martyr to
laugh and dance upon thy graveyard of shame. For love was lost and life was won, all the other things are shades to be gone and
the path of mourning longs for more... "Come here Mephisto, come here Mephisto, dance thy particular waltz upon my ridiculous
grave". Spirit and flesh are now rotting, their abode is so far, shall I find it? For the path I am walking, it's so lonely and
bleeding, the grief's overwhelming and sadness is crying, thou can taste all my sorrow for my life is so empty, empty like words
that are buried with loss. Turn on thy back all that's shown is regret and the shadows of death are unleashing their powers NOW!
Like a love lost in the cold, thru the grim shadows of old, shadows that whisper of souls. Everything gone and never to return,
here's the coldness and the bleakness of it all, a constant prelude to agony, a following of seasons of apathy, cruel are the eyes
of misery, black are the wings of my destiny, primordial tears come out as knives... The left half of the heart in the left hand,
the right half of the heart in the right hand... OBSCURITY - Mourning dwells in me, Obscurity - A lifelong misery, Obscurity - bleeding
the soul away... Feeling the dusk coming out from my bones, crushing everything that I'm holding inside and then going back again...
Feeling the dusk coming out from my bones, crushing everything I am holding inside and all left behind seem to come
back again... When senses are blinded and feelings distorted call the Martyr to show thee the real true existence, hypnotic
delusions are blessed with confusion, another landscape is silent with intent of revelation, groping one's way towards the wastes
of life, why this seems to have no end? Groping one's way towards the wastes of life, please help me inhale the true existence!...
