Mourning Days of Nostalgia

Drowning in the nectar of the flame

bound by the black goddess to a obscure

hymen

I leave my wishes...those haggard

tales...

wich a shelter me from the gesture of

the darkness

wich I have forgotten

...but any beauty distress withering

the empty

pictures of the life and blind me with

the

rotten blood of a dying cross.

The seminal branches of evil

embrace my dreams as a monument of all

those

nocturnal weeping in thy name I drink the

Black blood calling the fall...

At the darkest moon thou summoning all

my desires to twist the blind

lamb's aged fruit

I desire thee...as autumn tears

bewail the thy hellis decree

for years thy sorrow I have

mourned and

kissed the black bleed of thy

pale crown

embelished with the

sins of blasphemy

...but what is the

gist?...the yield of a

tearful eve,

...ingrowing

wounds in

meadows

of light...

but thou are the

night where I

have lost

perfume of

fullmoon nights

and thou

shall worship

my woe within

my forlornness.