Balmog - Mors Atque Odium

Torment, Anguish condemn my soul to
Enigmate visions
dreadful appearences let me hear the Voice
of those who don't speak, With supliciant Anee
I listen their call, a funeral call.
I am ready for the invocation. A monstrous sight
with horror appears ahead... I trust... I believe...
A vortex darkens Jerusalem and misericordy
turns into misery, the Voices... so clearly, so
Morbid, Throogh the image of chaotic reflections,
through, mysteries of the flesh. Piercing void
stir up the Coffins of Inexorable
Sleepers!
Sunken knowledge. Unholy Hail flood
my blackened spirit. I can feel the abrasive
fire in total ecstasy. My blood is now the
key to a blasphemous peace where the inhert
perception and the essence of death safisty
the voices...