The Old Ones were, The Old Ones are, And the Old Ones shall be..... A temple of shame, He is caste in the never-ending maze of darkness,, Waiting for
Traduction: Les Réprouvés. Whispering Soul.
Traduction: Dieu Réprouvés. Whispering Soul.
fail you in the city of angels Wings don't grow on palm trees or lost souls On palm trees or lost souls On palm trees or lost souls (Thanks to Jaime
this shallow Vanity of time What if there's a God a hell and heaven Fire is the torment I must face Dying by the souls I have forsaken No one's going
of tortured souls Begging for their life I am forsaken I cannot be forsaken We march Perfectly aligned to an unknown destination Whispering among the drones becomes irrelevant We're forsaken
The cruelness of an Autumn leaf The stillness of the falling leaves There's peacefulness surrounding me God is whispering to my soul Peace is a place
Incomprehensible] Oh I've seen your whore I try not to reason forsaken I'm poor Fire nerves and dissension flying at a glare A ginger reaction whisper
know I will not be forsaken Gently held in Your embrace Blessed Spirit whispering softly Cool the fires of my shame Even as I run from your arms My soul
Heaven in the sky Put angels on the houses That the devil lives inside I Stood up on the mountain shouting But you didn't hear Climbed down again To whisper
One night of bliss.? I could not dismiss her Once her beauty shot me a darker face You mesmerise my soul Dalliana You mesmerise my soul
As the scarlet and amber, peers in through forsaken Thy gravelessness whisper remains Where time can never dwell in this solitary hell Even though we
Tonight the moon is full in the land beyond the forest. The howling of Wallachian wolves, a serenade to the dreariest soul. I'm alone, within the confines
soltanto per il sogno mio d'amor, Ed io saprei rapirti con il canto dolcissimo del mio cuor. Ma tu non senti questo mio grido e forse non ricordi quando
lake and waves of a bleeding sleep Enthroned spirits of an evil damnation Whispers seals the wonds of my creation Funeral of shredded souls domain
the kind of boy the devil would offer a smoke or a drink to or a ride downtown to some God forsaken land One Sunday morning at dawn you know they baptized my soul
Through arcades where shimmering snowfall Lay in state with the sad and damned A rent lament barely flung above a whisper Drew me like a ghost to the
Matriarchal piety disturbed at their Vespers. Sisterly society feels the stifling whispers... Anger of the dead-at-sea denied proper Interment, Dumped
