Echoes Of Terror کے بول

Existence, throught a spirit's will A force, use the power of evil Darkness, visualize As light pierces through your yearning eyes Rebirth of a lost soul Your body, a channel with witch to grow old Mephitic, smell of death Rancid flesh, of the undead Inner screams, Useless tears, Shattered bones. My prayer... "Oh Lord... ...Help me die." "Please help me die." This inner gloom, A subterrainean hell. A morbid sleep, In my stygian world. My mind is locked, At chains my thoughts. I pray for death. Euthanasize my soul. Sanctify me! Epitaph, to mankind Engraved, on your mind Stigmata, on the flesh. Dead images, put to rest.