Besedila: Tombs. Winter Hours. Seven Stars The Angel Of Death.

Bury the sun in the western sky
Old fields will fail and cities burn
Like dreams like visions I had
Like dreams from long ago
The ravens fly as death descends
The gods of war show no remorse
Our lives crushed by the wheel
In our hearts we know it's true
Buried all in shallow graves
In death our hearts are true
In death we have no name
In death our hearts are true
In death we have no name