1. NOCTURNAL REVERIES

Cold! Eternal! Anguish!
On this night I free the wolf inside
In these forests light is dead and cold

Cold - Nocturnal winds benumb my dead soul
Eternal - Man's struggle against the wraith of fate
Anguish - Departure of hope from aeons of deprivation
Wolf - The sword that destroys the chaos of a dying world!

Slowly I reach for the chalice of decrepitude
and set this wooden palace ablaze
Mournfully I hunger for the blood of primal hate

Illusions of fear will forever contort
the reality of the coward
On this night I free the wolf inside
In these forests light is dead and gone...


2. TOMBS OF MONOLITHIC DARKNESS

Ignite the flames that shall inhume
And bring us further into darkness
The harbinger of death calls
With a grim and triumphant disdain

Behold these decadent tombs
Of unspeakable horrors
Where the perditious dwell undisturbed

In the halls of monolithic darkness
Hatred reigns eternal


3. BENEATH THE WAVES

As nocturne descends in the realm of man
Fireside visions reveal a forgotten land
An endless abyss of ancient cities and tombs
Commanding undead armies
Scarred with obscure runes

Beneath the waves
Where serpents dwell
Kingdoms of ecstasy
The depths of Hel

I sit upon the throne in my black tower
Indulging blood wine
In darkened frigid depths I will forever reign
Sickeningly divine

A god among them - I am of serpent kind
Destroyer of light
Sacrificial blood, feasting on dead flesh
My home is in the depths


4. GRIM UTTERANCES

To forests of the wintermoon
I am drawn by grim utterances
Seeking rituals of the dead
and sacred rites of ancient cults

Summoning those who dwell
in rotten kingdoms, abundant with death
Enacting the ceremony of flesh,
awaiting their arrival...

Creatures of nocturne
descend from celestial tombs
Wrought with chaos and destruction
Under astral determinants,
amid frozen winds
A warpath to ensure the fall of man

None shall be spared...


5. RETURN...

To me it calls...
All has fallen eternally

And through the end of it all
We return to the forests, back to solace
With bitter grief, return to the forests
Hearkening to these woods

Gone are the purveyors of rotten deeds,
Sent back to the wretched depths
Alone, our struggle is our own,
Left to the furrowed trails of disquietude

Weaving a web of distrust unto this broken shell
Weaving between these ceaseless blades
Contentious branches entangle the ancient stone
Upon which I return for eternal rest

Under moonlit forests I now lie - dreaming...
With nothing left I hear it call...