the barrow of my memories To lay the final stone upon the grave Searching inner kingdoms for control To put the lid of oblivion upon the grave of guilt
Перевод: Сокольничий. По Могила Вина.
all hope Repentance might stay holy war He would not heel nor fake a bow Murmur curses to the wind Enraged, he raved in balrog howls Upon a storm firstborn
that loves to get paid Until that day I'm gonna pimp whores until I go to my grave (Gangsta) Now as I sit and reminisce upon my boy and all the things
[Talking] The new age is upon us And yet the past refuses to rest in its shallow grave For those who hide behind the false image of the son of man shall
hand of the brave pray for the bleeding that lie in the shatters pray for the dying that lie in their graves submission through guilt and fear is not
take up your bed and walk. Let the blind see end the deaf hear. The rights of the individual are dependent upon You realising your right as an individual
was over I found that all but One haad gone Did Jesus have a grave stone upon which to carve His name? When He came collecting the grave gave up it's
wattage in his stare Maybe that deem's be that vagabond you'd love to kill But I really ain't got time for the all the motherfucking guilt. Chorus:
Her fountains flood with wine Lifted with the gift Of their dark seductive songs She drifted from the path She was surely set upon Courting chaos,
hope, repentance might stay holy war He would not heel nor fake a bow Murmur curses to the wind Enraged, he raved in a Balrog howls Upon a storm firstborn
Where your dreams can't be heard A shallow grave is where I dwell Buried alive within this cell A shadow cast upon my fate Deliver me to the one who waits Guilt
the long dead souls at rest The shadows cast an eerie light upon the stone Heavy is my heart from the loss Weeping I lay down upon the ground The cool
provided her with light As she opened up the cover and began to read the page Fly, soul, the body's guest, Upon your impish arrant Let none be guiled
up the cover and began to read the page Fly, soul, the body's guest, Upon your impish arrant Let none be guiled by false confession Truth shall be your
the open grave - of hate Father lay with open eyes - slain As I scream the soil shakes - awakened Red-eyes from my father's grave - piercing me, piercing
rumors and rumors. Rumors and rumors and rumors. Wash out the lie to save depression. Rumors and rumors and rumors. Perished. Guilts inside me spit on the graves
Christ's sake take up your bed and walk. Let the blind see end the deaf hear. The rights of the individual are dependent upon You realising your right
