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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
