Abysmal Growls of Despair
darkest thought
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Darkness grows on my soul, hit by light,
Weaving my shadow with fear.
Then, in ebony, my life veils, dried by shameful days.
Fragile scars, my words are empty.
From a dying dream will come the dark swain,
And my bones, between dust and laments,
will stay my lonesome answer.
- Album:
- Worst Putrid Tongue
- Dark Days