Shadows Of Obour

My death-thirst is strong unquenchable death-kissed, mine days in the grave Cold and rotting I rise as shadows, unquenchable In phantom form casting a mournful shadow Shrieking in the nigh Unquenchable Forty days I enter my corpse in the grave To rise Drinking and spitting blood Cruel fangs and claws and all Life I thirst for That rhythm of the heart slowing Into the abyss encircled in darkness The void is where I breath fire Blackened whispers call you near Behold the death-thirst