The Velvet Thorns Of Dirgenpale

Six strings of darkness on a guitar melancholy
I watch the mountains where the frost begins
The southern storm is rising , guiding me
To the forest , the genesis of resurrection

Silently the nightbirds fly
Their last scream , my eternal dirge
Under a pale full moon , a funeral of a soul
In the forest , the end of time

Still I walk with open wounds
The fourth is now rising
Through the ashes of a dying love
A new soul and a machine is born

Tall are the shadows that dance before me
Horned master now screaming with lust for blood
His final screams empower the dawn
The forest of resurrection , condemmed to sorrow

Chasing the wind
Like a spirit fly
Through the autumn trees
I ride towards the sky
Hoofs are pounding
In the clouds above
The chariot of sorrow
Watch me die

Feel the screams
So sad and blackened
Like a haunting breeze
The songs of Dirgenpale
Dream of the queen
The queen of roses

Now I am stealing her body and taking it home
My soul is on fire and all her lies have been shown

I must die
Through the sky
The forest of resurrection

Follow the wind
Ride south my child
The purest of winters
The darkest of feelings
The forest that never ends
There you’ll find your fate

And to the south I rode on the coldest of winds
I watched the mountains where the frost begun
No whisper or sight of the angels
Where death is all mine

At last I found the Throne of Bereavement
Grim and bleak raised to the sky
The Velvet Thorns Of Dirgenpale are mine
And so are death and solitude

In the garden of ice
My final sacrifice
In the trees my voice remains
Always calling , forever fading

Six strings of darkness on a guitar melancholy
Flowing tunes across the icy sky
The southern storm rests , keeps me
Tied into the forest , a slave of resurrection