A Rose For The Dead کے بول

Oh, my dearest, the sweet music in the air Albeit, daresay I, the lullaby of an everso dark sleep My precious Likest thou what emergeth yon the distant? The throbbing and breathing of life's machinery Wanion its oh so damndest soul With the devil-instrument it we shall reap After the banquet obscur'd in our thole Its blood so lovingly across our faces smear Lord of carnage One funeral maketh many Two indeed more blest treat of delight Grant a rose for the dead Lady of carnage Swarm God's acres Give praise for the blood it bled Grant a rose for the dead Enraptur'd by the timeless beauty of the shadowsphere We two abide the overlook'd time of the watch Make this cherish'd feast last But until the new dawn ascendeth Be still, harken the lure of night Bale in each its damndest shadow Clothe me in night, ne'er feel rue In its face, behold, naught save grue Pray, ne'er come hither daylight Velvet darkness Wane to dust the wight Misery it in velvet fright Velvet darkness, thee we ourselves bestow