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Gothic horrors surround us they stare motionless
Portraits of the end in fragrance
Of the dead their musty smell an illusion
Their peace engraved in walls we see
And the ornamental hallsstill a gloss
We feel our rapture increasing we deny our loss
E M O T I O
N
Mercyless once summoned beyond the graveyard
side
Where gray drowns in deep dark we are
blackened
Golden brown we estimate the pillars
ornaments
Underneath the arches where all figures appear blac
k And visions fade their wishes are dim their hopes in disguise
Further beyond we cant see their souls florish in paradise
We cant hear them call we wont
disturb their joy
The horrors not ceasing still they
lock up emotions
That we were given the hatred towards their
gruesome faces
Source of an higher desire we adore their
shattered portraits
The gate opens we enter and mark our epitaph
We bury the burden of hatred towards death and
arise
The stars in our hearts gleam in gothic paradise.
LORDHEALER
May he shed healing on the sore disgrace/ He, the
great comforter that rules above!
S.T. Coleridge, The Outcast.
Sois ce que tu voudras, nuit noire, rouge aurore/ Il nest pas une fibre en
tout mon corps tremblant/ Qui ne crie: mon cher Belzbuth, je tadore!
C. Baudelaire, Le Possd.
Sleep brings no joy to me/ Remembrance never dies/ My soul is given
to misery/ And lives in sighs.
Celtic Frost, Inner Sanctum.
LOrD Lost in Paradise HeAleR - my 1st bloody baroque silken sad ANSi creation
A B L A C K M A i D E N P R O D U C T i O N 9
4
Portraits of the end in fragrance
Of the dead their musty smell an illusion
Their peace engraved in walls we see
And the ornamental hallsstill a gloss
We feel our rapture increasing we deny our loss
E M O T I O
N
Mercyless once summoned beyond the graveyard
side
Where gray drowns in deep dark we are
blackened
Golden brown we estimate the pillars
ornaments
Underneath the arches where all figures appear blac
k And visions fade their wishes are dim their hopes in disguise
Further beyond we cant see their souls florish in paradise
We cant hear them call we wont
disturb their joy
The horrors not ceasing still they
lock up emotions
That we were given the hatred towards their
gruesome faces
Source of an higher desire we adore their
shattered portraits
The gate opens we enter and mark our epitaph
We bury the burden of hatred towards death and
arise
The stars in our hearts gleam in gothic paradise.
LORDHEALER
May he shed healing on the sore disgrace/ He, the
great comforter that rules above!
S.T. Coleridge, The Outcast.
Sois ce que tu voudras, nuit noire, rouge aurore/ Il nest pas une fibre en
tout mon corps tremblant/ Qui ne crie: mon cher Belzbuth, je tadore!
C. Baudelaire, Le Possd.
Sleep brings no joy to me/ Remembrance never dies/ My soul is given
to misery/ And lives in sighs.
Celtic Frost, Inner Sanctum.
LOrD Lost in Paradise HeAleR - my 1st bloody baroque silken sad ANSi creation
A B L A C K M A i D E N P R O D U C T i O N 9
4
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