Holding The Seal (Forneus)

Between the sphere of throne choirs and sphere of angel choirs In clouds of reverie and windy, mad existence From all of pains and suffers made from fear in abyss of damned The magic Seal of Formeus, weaved in merciless time He keeps it with him Gives a power and sentences Guards his own madness Yields a wild blisses The great marquess of hell, he learns a fine arts He can render man for being a master of rhetoric The legions of ghosts from dark abysses Are still ready for his orders Are making him adored by his enemies Formeus, gazed in his Seal