Escape From Doom
False Reality
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The candles crying blood
Under the ruined arches,
The moon is lighting-up
The palor of the deads-undead.
Under coffins of glass,
Forgoten wings on cobwebs,
The candles crying blood
Under the ruined arches,
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The icons spreading blood.
A coffin is broken,
The walls are suppurating.
A cobweb is empty of wings,
On the white marble,
For killing the irauns,
In a corner,
A cobweb is empty of wings,
The window is open...