The end doesn't seem to come forever
Everything to be seen is like a bug
Trailing entrails, in a fever
An old man gives his destiny a hug singing
You, drag a razor across the wrist
To pour out, as much as you like, the purple pus
If the red sun from the mist erases the shade
We needed no reason in the battle field
To annihilate the immortal germ

Around the low land the bugs still wander
Reaching for the sky where hope is gone
Their dance in desperation turns harder
As the old man suffers the night without dawn singing
You don't store it up inside
The spawn will cause the end of eternal stream of time
They can't make strides in the magic
Bending the rays, disturbing illusions

Fading light, vibrates the night
The old man's creep, steals my sleep

Expose your right hand
Lest it should rot away to the light

And no one can survive with it alive

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As The World Is Burnt

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