Music and Lyrics by Anata
I offered you my world to have, my kingdom to explore
I gave you warmth and shelter against the ragings snow
My dark love was rejected, too bad you could not see
That love lasts eternally and we were ment to be
Your tears cannot move me, I am delighted by your cries
As blood runs down from your chest, I am smiling as you die
Though my eyes are red and wet, this is my greatest thrill
If I cannot have you then no-one ever will
I welcome you home one last time
To greet you goodbye with a knife in my hand
Steel so sharp against tender flesh
River of blood flowing down her chest
Metal blade carving up her skin
As one life ends a new one begins
Anger of Cain raging in my head
Again and again, she is soon to be dead
Tears in her eyes, I hope she can hear
my "goodbye, you have nothing to fear"
Once so mighty I was aeons ago
I would make thunder roar and lava flow
Times do pass, moments do wither and fade
Man do forget the memories of my glorious days
Forever to live in purgatory's darkness
Blend in with the low-life among this putrid mess
Some praise my name, they do not know
I changed it millennia ago
Pestillence will spread across Earth
Death to the first set to birth
Snow-covered the ground shall remain
As yet another life I do reclaim
Fire from the ground to the sky
No place to hide, nowhere in safety to lie
Expelled again, myself to blame
Now I am never to return from whence I came
Till fader Movitz, under dess sjukdom, lungsoten. Elegi
Drick ur ditt glas, se döden på dig väntar,
slipar sitt svärd och vid din tröskel står.
Bliv ej förskräckt, han blott på gravdörn gläntar,
slår den igen, kanske än på ett år.
Movitz, din lungsot den drar dig i graven.
Knäpp nu oktaven:
stäm dina strängar, sjung om livets vår!
Himmel, du dör, din hosta mig förskräcker;
tomhet och klang, inälvorna ge ljud;
tungan är vit, det rädda hjärtat kläcker,
mjuk som en svamp är sena, märg och hud.
Andas! - Fy tusan, vad dunst ur din aska!
Län mig din flaska!
Movitz, gutår! Skål! Sjung om vinets gud!
Nå så gutår! Dig Bacchus avsked bjuder,
från Fröjas tron du sista vinken får.
Ömt till dess lov det lilla blodet sjuder,
som nu med våld ur dina ådror går.
Sjung, läs och glöm, tänk, begråt och begrunda!
Skull' du åstunda
ännu en fälsup? Vill du dö? - Nej, gutår!