It was not long, long ago when I
had fallen from this mortal world...
Cloaked in feathers, lost in dream flight
to pierce the horizon like a bird...
Is this life the pillor I must bear?
To grow in this wretched world?
With hate each day I burn.
The birds above, they ride the winds,
And from each piercing talon dangles a soul.
The stone awaits my fall, upon a grave I dug myself.
The birds sing their requiems, please lend me your wisdom,
To fly above the heavens, across seas of gold,
To my land of frostbitten, ageless night.
Tapered, at my life...
Let me dig my own grave...
Let me dig my own grave.
Let me, oh precious noose of mine.
You are my mother,
Whose womb around my neck
Grants me a world of cold nihility.
An endless winter night.
A bitter, black frozen hell...
For me, forever...
Is this the, the pillor I must bear?
To die on this fvcking world?
With hate I die and burn.
The birds above, they caress the winds.
They lend me the wisdom to fly...