A Spirit De Septin Corpus

A.M.E.S.

Compositor: Não Disponível

Every breeze is the last breath
Of a glady dying god
A spirit de septin corpus
We speak of true evil
Based not far behind us
Aforce soon will come
Laying bloody waste
To all in their path

Well, bones without you are doomed
A creature of the wild and nothing more
Use your tongue / for more than lapping blood

Beside we have failed
With his first born
As you release that
Which we have created
In love and hope
We are more than a human
You were only a man
With no wings to spread

When you have just / taught me the meaning
Of such loss / our blood will live on