Pitch Black Tomb

Pitch Black Tomb Seduced by this morbid autumn To rest in its eternal slumber The end follows not far behind Ashes of my heathen pride Shall sow the seeds of our future Ashes of a tormented soul Shall glow in the flames below Rusted nails pierce my flesh Salt pouring into my wounds Echoing screams to deaf ears Driving my own hearse down Into hell....... hell I am death My abhorrent spectre haunts So it is the autumn of my soul Expanding and contracting In the winds of fire My transparent decay fades In remembrance.... Bitter is the taste Of the grief In my very soul My grave... so cold My grave... pitch black tomb My grave... exists no more...