-Masquerade of Mortals-

"I pity you, the sons and daughters of the light
Festering upon the altars of sacrifice
The ones who don't care of the night
Doomed is your path of the hand of the right!
When the deceasing sun paints long shadows
and the crimson land is ravished with fire
Death spreads its horrid wings
to drape all, that is, in flames..."


This dusk, this final fall into the night,
where the devourer of the light will delight,
opens a ceremon for the ones unhallowed by God
Graveyard lanterns guide their way
the baying of the wolves pay homage
Unto them

Hope of salvation is on its knees
Filth of a man can only wish to bleed eternally
Shunned by hope and having nothing to bereave
Where is your saviour now?!

This travestic comedy, you call life
is a mere benighted solemnity
All I seeked away from, is hauled and moulded
into this weak token of their life, they will die
And I will walk by just to hear their endless cries!

Step aside you mundane being
we'll show you the secrets of cadent dance

Dead is the choir, dead is the music
all that is left are their playful shadows
but still they listen relentlessly
as the dying cellos ignite

A flooding mass of mindless lot
swarming about, but (then again) why would they not
swaying to beat that has long been dead
a pact which they made and they'll pay with their head

And the night of the masque lasted for an eternity

Nameless faces, driven by the will to survive,
covered by the mask of eternal slavery.
With hardened hearts they weep for their fate
and choose to let go...and I smile, for they...
- deserve to die.

This travestic tragedy, they call life
is a mere born-dead solemnity
All I seeked away from, is hauled and moulded
into this weak token of their life, they will die
And I will walk by just to hear their endless cries!