King Of Burning Anthems

I am the still darkness of stars I am the shadow of a flickering flame I am the mournful moaning of wind I am the sigh of a tomb of silence I am the cold eternity of the sea I am the blood-stained dagger of the hearts Here I am, the bell that plagues the conscience Overwhelmed by the pale abyss Here I am, the gloomy temple of my soul That will never let you forget Here I am, frozen into a gem of wisdom That petrifies with fear Here I am, the anthem of shadow That reverberates with a distant resonance Here I am, the chariot running blindly to a certain death As merciless as the grave Here I am, the prophet of haunting infinity That pervades from all sides I am the bright flame amidst the gale I illuminate mountain murk with the glow of dawn I am the ember of my pain, the star of my power I am the thunder of the storm louder than eternity I am the dust of desert scratching bloodstained tombs I am the abyss of volcanoes spouting venom [He was awoken by howling. Could it be night already? He must have fallen asleep at this desk studying one of the volumes recommended by Friedrich. The one he was just reading focused mainly on some unknown biblical criticism. Suddenly he heard music coming from the other room. He opened the door. Could it be the Countess's bed chamber? It was empty. Only a candle on the table was burning. There were hundreds of vessels and dishes in the room: on the table, on the floor, on the window sills; jugs, bowls and carafes; all filled with water. Dark dirty water. Then he saw the Countess in front of him. She was standing there with her raven-black hair loose, wearing a lace négligé. She looked at him and smiled defiantly. Without saying a word she gestured him to come in...]