Paroles de Rapture And The Mourning Virtue

And the flower to poison grey The beggars' winter, the almighty's reign A drama in silver Drawn in bitter dusks Clouds drift across the end One's own flesh and blood Ravished, oh melancholy The icon, a greedy touch And the moon to blood divine The arms, they dream, I scorn Shall cynic be always The dread of all the incensed Horrent as the intrepid falls The last, for ever, throne Seconds of the past Solitary cries Wandering The crestfallen invoked The envy carved in stone Immense eversince Rapture and the mourning virtue And the flower to poison grey The beggars' winter, the almighty's reign