She wears a willow under winter's funereal burden
Embosomed in cold and lightless chamber
Washes her face with her own tainted blood
Chalice of Ambrosian wine is empty like wish for life
Inwoven eyes flow scarlet nectar
As heaven screams enfolding divine murder
Art thou drunk from suffering of thine?
For thy tounge speaks the tounges of those forgotten to Hades
Thou bury a curse together with thy body
Slowly bleeding she watches moonlit fields from her window
Gaunt and pale draped in black vapour
Freezing heath stands dauntless at dying eve
She's running out the threads of life
Passing through the gates of ethereal mist
She's running out the threads of life
Passing through the gates of ethereal mist