Monotonous beings slaves of their own morbid thoughts
Slowly moving at the edge of this top hill
The voice calls me, smoothing ear
With rough and grunting sounds
Taking this feeling of gray exile

Mildew epitaphs, suspended in isolation
Plundered mausoleums decorate this land
The light on my skin does not burn as well
Only warms my essence
I listen to soft whispers, that announce that
The star king will have its daily funeral

Soon the moon will kiss this field
Cease the victorian lullabies
Shed this blood that it no longer wants
Which no longer needs to flow
This has no end, I am still falling without reaching any part

Mildew epitaphs, suspended in isolation
Plundered mausoleums decorate this land
The light on my skin does not burn as well
Only warms my essence
I listen to soft whispers, that announce that
The star king will have its daily funeral

They throw me to the black abyss
Breaks my face, dismembered my limbs
Lacerate my soul, lacerate my soul
The moon will give orchids for burials to come
Have taken me with their pale hands, and with inhuman force
They throw me to the black abyss