Groza IV 歌词

The valley of judg'ment. The forest of olde. Where'd come the dread presence, so knowne afore? Thou, who hath risen the oracle of lyes, Hast thou witnes'd a shepherd feed on his flocke? The virtues of loss. The hymnes of decay. Dost thou have faith now, o dearest friend? And dost thou now doubt Truth to be a liar, Or dost thou doubt Lie in thy promythian rage? Whence came thine yoke of grande tradition, Hast thou not seen the structure clear? A quenchlesse fire, a nest of trembling feare. A path that leads to perill, sorrow and despaire. Alas, 'tis the world without end.