Sunrise Over Locus Mortis

The dark and cold wastelands of grey dust softens when my downturned

Triangular teardrops covers the ground

This secret got lost to the shepherd's flock

My burning skin connects with the sands of time

And thus the holy angels appear, "Drag them through the mud"

I cried "Instead of me"

"This is not the death I choose

Your christian trials are wrong!"

I speak of what I want

And my heart lies therein

Blackened you say

Then black is my way

And call me an enemy

I shall only stand proud

Awaiting the rise of the darkside

Sunrise over Locus Mortis