Mastiphal Chosen Obituaries
Dead souls march through vast lands
Sleepless graves wheeze hollow
Candlestick of a chilly day
Souls hanged high on treetops
Not an inch of living soil
Blackened and unlit
Bloody night, it blinds all
The heavens veiled from the dead
Circling above the clouds
The shadowed eye silenced vain voices
Enclosed you will be in fear
Join me or draw your last breath
With deadly gesture I curse you
I smash your tombstone with iron
Nothingness swallows your soul
Your ashes I scatter with laughter
Their shadows are fragile like straw
So thin they get through a door crack
But they will grow and splinter my thoughts
Rising from the burning ground
