At My Funeral

Tomb Of Souls

At My Funeral


Tomb of souls, where death crawls 
Rivers of hate, grimness faith 
Scared life, nothing moves 
No light, opened wounds 

Cryptic might 
Mortuar fright 
Shreding moans 
Sick pain abuse 

Autumn winds brought back the smell of rotten flesh 
Across horizons ravens sing the hymns of decadence 
Impaled believes, surounded by the absence of light 
In this painfull paiting of decomposed existence 

Deacy and death spread over the land 
Leaving only sorrow and fright behind 
In the tomb of souls, where the shaows are old 
Under the crust, sculpures of blood 
So old as the night, guarding the encaged hope 

In the tomb os soul 
We fall, were dead