Letra da Música I'm so Tired of Sighing, Please Lord Let It Be Night de Black Tongue
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We are gathered here today to give rise to abomination
He will cast the chains of subjugation
Spread his oppression across all nations; unending ire; the tables shifted
Under his cleansing fire the filth is lifted
The sea will burn crimson under his reign
She was always at her best dressed in flames
Witness eternal disdain
The tree is withered
The roots are rotten and weak
They grow through the skulls and the ribs of the children murdered at its feet
The lie you've been chasing; the happiness you seek; you could have found what you sought blooming in man, but the rot was too deep
An axe to the tree
Prepare the sacrifice
Drag her screaming to the altar
Bring me the sacred knife
Lay her on the table
Carve on her chest the shape of the elder sign
The hour draws near
Raise your glass and share her blood as holy wine
The hour draws near
The tree is withered
The roots are rotten and weak
They grow through the skulls and the ribs of the children murdered at its feet
I vocare te diaboli - Ustulo omnia - Nova nobis - Satana
(Hark, the calling of crows)
"The sea will burn crimson under my reign. I will see this world wreathed in flames. Witness pain"
He will cast the chains of subjugation
Spread his oppression across all nations; unending ire; the tables shifted
Under his cleansing fire the filth is lifted
The sea will burn crimson under his reign
She was always at her best dressed in flames
Witness eternal disdain
The tree is withered
The roots are rotten and weak
They grow through the skulls and the ribs of the children murdered at its feet
The lie you've been chasing; the happiness you seek; you could have found what you sought blooming in man, but the rot was too deep
An axe to the tree
Prepare the sacrifice
Drag her screaming to the altar
Bring me the sacred knife
Lay her on the table
Carve on her chest the shape of the elder sign
The hour draws near
Raise your glass and share her blood as holy wine
The hour draws near
The tree is withered
The roots are rotten and weak
They grow through the skulls and the ribs of the children murdered at its feet
I vocare te diaboli - Ustulo omnia - Nova nobis - Satana
(Hark, the calling of crows)
"The sea will burn crimson under my reign. I will see this world wreathed in flames. Witness pain"
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Ficha Técnica da Música I'm so Tired of Sighing, Please Lord Let It Be Night
Número de Palavras | 193 |
Número de Letras | 1148 |
Intérprete | Black Tongue |
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