Born to darkness,the woods foreve stand among the gathering
Upon his eyes the last of the sun's glow
Ascend the candlelit path to where the gift of life is given
Beyond all dream is his ignorance to a serene past

Upon his will you will sleep to an endless dusk
The howls' of an evening's plague of sorrow rides the land in a strom's mist
Glaring in hope to witness the breath of a new dawn
Yet a mystical thought allows him to look upon a sky covered in black satin

Through profane eternity he drinks the nector of immortality
Searching eons for the darkest of pastures
An emotion filled with such vengeance enrages his coldest heart
As now, the wolves of autumn shriek the call of this,the final night