Mors Eleison - Abysmal Grief

When the night turns black

A slow procession of coffins

Proceeds through the orchid path

In time and time, to the Violet Realm

(rit.)

Wait Her silent coming

Divinate the tombstone

Mors Eleison, They’re calling us

Come on!

From the room of cobwebs

Where the sandglass breath resounds

Brings us to the Silent Place

Of wreaths and knells

My grave…

(rit.)

Now She silently comes

Through astral plains of dust

Mors Eleison, Mors Eleison