1 - RITES OF THE DAMNED

“Though the sexton, grim and old,
Turns the mould.
Damp and cold.
In the churchyard, for the bed
Of the still and holy dead;

Though we see the green turf prest
On each breast
Full of rest.
Full of quiet, sweet and deep,
Yet not there our loved ones sleep.”

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2 - THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH

Among vivid blue, deep green, white and pure violet,
There was a black room, fully adorned with the darkest velvet.
Through its bloody red windows where no candelabrum light could shine,
Shadows turned to dread shapes when the ebony clock began to chime.

Within his walls, he gave his guests splendors,
Dances and laughts, feast and wonders, revelry galore.
While outside plague and pestilence terrified,
While lives extinguished for the reaper satisfied.

Hear this dim death knell
See this corpse shrouded in crimson, and his skull so pale !
Hear this dim death knell
Where the putrid black disease won, here’s the Masque of the Red Death !

Dabbled in blood, his bony hands besprinkled with the scarlet horror,
The spectral image slided like a ghost, releasing the Prince furore.
A dagger as only weapon, the duke fell appart and his heart broke
Cursing the deadly specter, whispering at the last beat of the ebony clock.

And summoning the wild courage of despair,
Revellers found the shroud empty in a very last dare.
The Red Death came like a thief in the night,
Scattered bodies in blood dew, in a color so bright !

Hear this dim death knell
See this corpse shrouded in crimson, and his skull so pale !
Hear this dim death knell
Where the putrid black disease won, here’s the Masque of the Red Death !

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3 - HAUNTING CURSE

Bloodstains lie down as rose petals
In the stale air of your devotion.
With rotten sulfur, I will befoul
Your perfidious believes, your misleading convictions.

We were four sleepless ghosts
Without any names.
We intoxicated the lost,
Made the holy cross profaned.

With scratches and bites, we brought icy cold,
Prowling shadows pervaded in minds like poison,
We were the phantoms tales never retold,
Stranded in the thick murk of oblivion.

Without any incantation, our wicked spirits used to arise,
Released chaos, unleashed pandemonium, in sanity last sacrifice.
In this realm of shadows, the veil between worlds was so thin and frail,
In this eerie witching hour, where endless darkness prevailed.

Beware the haunted house's chilling embrace,
For its secrets and terrors, no one can erase.
Within its corridors, blood was versed,
Nightmares will always reside in this haunting curse.

Vengeful soulless revenants
Eyes gleaming red, we were vile,
Through the portal of the unknown,
Us, Death, had a god to defy.

In this damned place, every dweller was a prey,
Even the sent messengers of the divine,
Confusing their senses, leading them astray.
« Go away from this house, this is mine ! »

Without any incantation, our wicked spirits used to arise,
Released chaos, unleashed pandemonium, in sanity last sacrifice.
In this realm of shadows, the veil between worlds was so thin and frail,
In this eerie witching hour, where endless darkness prevailed.

Beware the haunted house's chilling embrace,
For its secrets and terrors, no one can erase.
Within its corridors, blood was versed,
Nightmares will always reside in this haunting curse.

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4 - SEANCE OF SHADOWS

Whispers cold and echoes from the past,
See how the witching hour is nigh.
With a circle of candles, the spell is cast,
We see ghosts with our all-seeing eye.

Our so cold hands joined in a mournful embrace,
We summon spirits in everlasting night.
To let these specters travel through time and space,
We ask the occult to open the black gates for the rite.

Cursed souls entwined, forever trapped in fear,
Damned wraiths of gloom, evil draws near.

Through the medium’s voice, laments of the dead,
Melancholic cries and howls of anger.
As this profane dagger lets our blood shed,
Our heads reversed, we’ll walk on hell’s ember.

A weighty silence falls down on the ritual,
Candles flames shiver, turn to the deepest black.
From the sepuchral depths, we hear them answering to our call,
Their baleful promises to spread a neverending dark.

Cursed souls entwined, forever trapped in fear,
Damned wraiths of gloom, evil draws near.
We bleed to open the gates of beyond,
To see death and unleash your legions.

Beneath the moon’s glaze, we face the occult
The eternal void on which evil blows.
A wicked communion of souls to grace our cult,
In this séance of shadows.

Cursed souls entwined, forever trapped in fear,
Damned wraiths of gloom, evil draws near.
We bleed to open the gates of beyond,
To see death and unleash your legions.

Beneath the moon’s glaze, we face the occult
The eternal void on which evil blows.
A wicked communion of souls to grace our cult,
In this séance of shadows.

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5 - UNHOLY VERSES

Under the silver moonlight, unamed shadows walked between old graves,
In torn shrouds, we watched the ancient cathedral in ruins.
Between life and death, our bony feet leaded us to the altar of shagreen,
To which we whispered, we praised, we devoted ourselves to become infernal slaves.

On the stained glass, malevolence portrayed,
We saw death and faced our fate.
All damned by the sacrifice we made,
Serving our hearts on a silver plate.

Oh, our souls writhe and seethe !
Looking for evil to wreath.
For the promises of eternity, we bled,
Tears, despair and so much bloodshed...

The organ's dirge, a somber tone,
In the crypt's depths, darkness has grown.
You will guide us in apostasis,
We'll blow all light in unholy verses.

In the middle of the night, we heard evil and sepulchral echoes.
Blood chalices and a pure heart to sacrifice to Goetia rites,
We opened the Book of Shadows in a last restless sigh...
From his throne of gold and bones, He waited for our obedience vows.

Oh, our souls writhe and seethe !
Looking for evil to wreath.
For the promises of eternity, we bled,
Tears, despair and so much bloodshed...

The organ's dirge, a somber tone,
In the crypt's depths, darkness has grown.
You will guide us in apostasis,
We'll blow all light in unholy verses.

"Hail Satan,
Ruler of the Netherworld,
Master of the 9th Circle of Hell,
Usher me in the dark void of your being
So I may be born afresh
In soul and flesh of your design."

The organ's dirge, a somber tone,
In the crypt's depths, darkness has grown.
You will guide us in apostasis,
We'll blow all light in unholy verses.

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6 - DANSE MACABRE

Midnight strikes finally and the Sabbath can begin.
This deadly ballet will last until sunrise, unseen...

As the full moon rises, every shadow expands,
The forest stops to breathe, the dark gets in and…
To thee, I surrender, my heart, my soul, my trust,
I beg you to bring life from dust.

On this obscure autumn night, ghosts and corpses unite,
In this witches' Sabbath, where black magic ignites.
Under the moon crescent, we summon wraiths,
In this witches' Sabbath, we dance with death !

A deadly fire burns from the deepest abyss.
As the afterlife yearns, in a whisper, a last hiss.
Oh, night of death’s might ! An offering to stab.
Until the sun amber light, come join us in this Danse Macabre.

With the words of necromantic prayer,
I rise from the crypt, with secrets to bear.

As the full moon rises, every shadow expands,
The forest stops to breathe, the dark gets in and…
To thee, I surrender, my heart, my soul, my trust,
I beg you to bring life from dust.

Amidst mandrakes, the dead are said to expire.
In this witches' Sabbath, hands joined around the fire.
Under Lucifer's glaze, tonight, blood is rife,
In this witches' Sabbath, specters come back to life !

A deadly fire burns from the deepest abyss.
As the afterlife yearns, in a whisper, a last hiss.
Oh, night of death’s might ! An offering to stab.
Until the sun amber light, come join us in this Danse Macabre.

As the full moon rises, every shadow expands,
The forest stops to breathe, the dark gets in and…
To thee, I surrender, my heart, my soul, my trust,
I beg you to bring life from dust.

With lunar curses and catacomb's whispers cold,
In this witches' Sabbath, deceased will live onefold.
With phantoms at our side, we will hold the night,
In this witches' Sabbath, until the sunlight.

A deadly fire burns from the deepest abyss.
As the afterlife yearns, in a whisper, a last hiss.
Oh, night of death’s might ! An offering to stab.
Until the sun amber light, come join us in this Danse Macabre.

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7 - SPECTRAL DOMINION

In this manor, where portraits line the wall,
Behind the frames, their eyes are said to follow.
Captive spirits, awaiting the call,
This bleak place no one could never hallow.

Captured by the artist's hand, in shades of eerie hue,
They dwell in silence, deceiving the greatest virtue.
Each stroke of the brush turn their souls even darker,
Lurking in the shadows, starving for murder.

This painter maintains their features with delight,
As the moon casts their pallor, they're more real than life.
Revealing their suffering in the night,
Their penchant for macabre, allurement for the knife.

In vermilion, they make with this craftsman of evil
A dismal pact in sustained reeks of oil and alcohol.
“I’ll prepare my brushes with strands of your hair, my inner method,
I’ll achieve your portrait with unique tinges from your own blood.”

In this haunted gallery, imprisoned in canvases of dread, (Imprisoned in canvases of dread)
Lying in their golden frames and waiting for stray guests to behead. (They wait for stray guests to behead)
The artist’s will requires death by henchmen in blood effusion. (They kill in blood red effusion)
A fiendish pact, evil promise, they’re the ghosts of the spectral dominion. (The ghosts of spectral dominion)

The afterlife price against one duty :
Murders, slaughters for newcomers eternally.

Enlightened by the moon, staring at blank canvas,
He could paint the corpses at his feet, his phantasmagorias.
Soaking his brushes in blood, real abomination,
Adorning the manor walls, completing his collection.

In this haunted gallery, imprisoned in canvases of dread, (Imprisoned in canvases of dread)
Lying in their golden frames and waiting for stray guests to behead. (They wait for stray guests to behead)
The artist’s will requires death by henchmen in blood effusion. (They kill in blood red effusion)
A fiendish pact, evil promise, they’re the ghosts of the spectral dominion. (The ghosts of spectral dominion)

“My palette dripped with scarlet, my hands in a devil's dance,
As I conjured brutal tableaux, in a sanguinary trance,
My art, a testament to evil, to a soul forever stained,
A painter of the macabre, where sanity was maimed,
In the annals of the damned, my legacy did unfurl,
A wicked painter of blood, whose name shall ever curl.”

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8 - BLOODMOON INVOCATION

Enshrouded in the night, we chant our vile desires,
Our offerings profane, fuel our malicious fires.
In the midnight's freezing silence, our sinister covenant blooms,
Blood moon, our cursed ally, in your shadowed depths we consume.

Upon the altar's stone, symbols etched in crimson hue,
We inscribe the incantations, as the chilling winds accrue,
The flames dance with malevolence, the earth itself shall quake,
As the ritual's crescendo, in wicked rapture, we partake.

Omen of darkness, your evilness we embrace,
We will invoke your cursed grace.
We’ll raise the dead, we’ll beckon the demons,
Deprived of our souls in a blood moon invocation.

The night surrounds us, as the moon's power ascends,
In this malefic summoning, our hearts rend.
In ancient tongues we chant words of arcane eerie,
As candles cast their shadows, in lugubrious acrimony.

Blood moon, guide our path, with your crimson gleam,
In the pages of forbidden lore, we will find the devil's scheme.
The sigils writ in blood, our covenant with the abyss,
As malefic spirits gather, to partake in our dark kiss.

Omen of darkness, your evilness we embrace,
We will invoke your cursed grace.
We’ll raise the dead, we’ll beckon the demons,
Deprived of our souls in a blood moon invocation.

Omen of darkness, your evilness we embrace,
We will invoke your cursed grace.
We’ll raise the dead, we’ll beckon the demons,
Deprived of our souls in a blood moon invocation.

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9 - LITANIES OF DARKNESS

Within his cold and bleak castle, the darkness laid bare and gripped his soul.
Each devilish pact he forged in blood with the Prince of Torments, the Devil.

A dread grimoire of secrets,
From the depths of torment, from his cursed and cold tomb,
In the occult, haunting the catacombs,
Chanting the litanies of darkness.

Innocence he slaughtered, veins he opened, each breath he took away,
In the chronicles of time, he shown his vile and dark display…

A dread grimoire of secrets,
From the depths of torment, from his cursed and cold tomb,
In the occult, haunting the catacombs,
Chanting the litanies of darkness.

A noble knight turned to darkness and his story we retell,
Into the infernal fire, we are seeking secrets from his hell.

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10 - ETHEREAL NECROPOLIS

Among tombstones' silence, where time has turned to dust,
The ethereal murmurs rise, in the moon's sepulchral light.
Where restless souls don’t sleep, where the soil seems to burst,
Tales of life and death, in this spectral, haunted night.

Whispers of the forgotten, like a chilling winter's breeze,
Among the ivy-covered stones, their spirits to appease.
Their mournful echoes linger, in reverence and dread,
In the name of the purest evil, we will raise the dead.

Laid on a bed of lilies,
Tears and sorrow in a candle glow.
In Ethereal Necropolis,
Summoning the lost, in a last vow.

Their stories etched in darkness, their presence veiled in twilight,
Among the cryptic epitaphs, where the arcane symbols are bright.

In the quiet of the night, the dirge of bells does toll,
Between life and the beyond, where the restless souls begin.
Under the incandescent moon, they’ll answer to our call,
The ghosts of yesteryears, the phantoms of shagreen.

Memories like shadows, in the fog that cloaks the night,
A haunting, chilling lament, in the cemetery's eerie rite.
Time is a heavy shroud, where cold winds weep,
We’ll awake the spectral shades from their eternal sleep.

Laid on a bed of lilies,
Tears and sorrow in a candle glow.
In Ethereal Necropolis,
Summoning the lost, in a last vow.

“Oh, the graves where they are laid
Sexton's spade
Never made!
Nor do sculptured tablets tell
That within the heart they dwell;

Where the winter winds, we know,
Cannot blow,
And the snow
Never hides the flowers that grow,
Fadeless, from the dust below.”