Besedila: Novembers Doom. Suffer The Red Dream.

I can see the twilight and twisted shadows it creates. I can hear
the heartbeat of lifes lost sorrow. Never once can one man dream
the absence of a holy shrine. Eating dirt to fill this void that
remains empty and dry. Liquid from my tears that plummet for
eternity, help to drown the flowers and sprout yet another cry.
For all these fallen angels and the Gods in which they serve,
where will they go when it all comes crashing down? Your smile
doesn't help me and your laughter holds no joy. I never asked for
your pity, or your worthless love. All of this means nothing to a
heart that does not beat, for this is no salvation and the
darkness shrouds my face. In between this granite frown and a
smile made from blood, the placement of my hands shall cover my
eyes of black. No words can leave my mouth for my throat is coarse
and dry, and my legs quake beneath me, falling before my pain.
Kneel before the suffering and cover your face with earth. Smother
yourself with elegance and dream the dream of red.