Testo di Pokol

Wreath of nails hold apart The flesh that is now parted I hate myself For being weak enough to faint Bloodstained are my hands Fill my chalice Full of endeavour I am so alone My hands are like A great river of death I seduce pain and clasp nettles to my arms More pain coming from within than from outside No peace for me in death All the world turns to ice in my eyes My lamentation is long Recalling a past when i had a home From my temple There is no comfort For that I will soon be absent