Текст Anathema – The Lord Of Mortal Pestilence

Storm-lord, the Dreaded One
Poison of our worlds
In times of darkness, of death and decay
he grasps dominion all over

An impressive depravity of a cadaverous epiphany
A profane blasphemy of the darkest atrocity

Welcome me, mortal beings
to a world a cry of fear
Incursions to evil
shattered are your dreams
My breath, a torrid wind
of immortal pestilence
heaves torment, pain and anguish
suffer in your silence

Chaos, no salvation
misery, no redemption
Twisted minds hold the key
Benevolence, I pray for thee

Drowned in fear, shrouded in black
Mourning eternally in a spiritual lethargy

Every beat of his heart
is a death-toll chiming in a mind
As chimes grow stronger
the earth shudders in his wake
His final lament is a
requiem to the Gods of Darkness
All deep contempt is a
blasphemous sacrilege to his name