From a pale hole in the sky
This voice always comes to me,
Speaks unclearly about twisted things,
Death does not come to you as a friend.
A funeral candle is lit,< br/>It shines like a shadow through the branches.
I'm possessed by this light,
That doesn't let me rest or rest.
And ghosts tug with numb fingers
A A monster to the bone,
That rages and agitates and commits murder
In the frosty, hard moonlight.
A gnawed shadow existence,
Ruffled, benighted and disheveled
It is purely reflected in my horror,
In eyes where madness lives.