Cult of a Dying Sun کے بول

Confined in hopeless valleys Stricken with vast veil of shadow No light will reach beyond these mountains There's more comfort to be found among gallows We're lost within the pitch of gloom As night-tide piles the dead ashore The breathless laugh in the face of dreams And the subsisting smirk midst scaling banks of gore Decomposing tower Self-generating cadaverous Gate to Abaddon Lining lungs with azure plage All will succumb to putrefaction And we crawl higher, over the dying Without remorse, for life we're prying And we push forward, we march on Into nothing, where we belong