A Rose For The Dead

Oh my dearest; the sweet music in the ear
Albeit, daresay i, the lullaby of an everso dark sleep.
My precious
Likest thou what emergeth yon the distant?
The throbbing and breathing of life's machinery!

Wanion its oh so damndest soul!
With the devil-instrument it we shall reap
After the banquet obscur'd in our thole
Its blood so lovingly across our faces smear.

Lord of carnagel
Lady of carnagel
One funeral maketh many
Swarm god's acres
Two indeed more
Blest treat of delight.

Give praise for the blood it bled
Grant a rose for the dead!
Grant a rose for the dead!

Enraptur'd by the timeless beauty of the
Shadowsphere
We two abide the overlook'd time of the watch.

Make this cherish'd feast last
But until the new dawn ascendeth.

Be still harken the lure of night!
Bale in each its damndest shadow
Cloth me in night, ne'er fell rue
In its face, behold! Naught save grue.

Pray, ne'er come hither daylight!
Wane to dust the wight
Velvet darkness, thee we ourselves bestow!
Misery it in velvet fright.