Sons Of Darkness

Mistweaver

Compositor: Não Disponível

In the deep of the blackest winter night,
When the wolves bark from the hills
Chilling winds shake the christian hearts
It s the time for the ones

For the ones awaiting in the dark
To appear deep into their dreams
Burning crosses enlighten now the
May the nightmare begin

Ancient rites have been said
And the sky turns into red
Forbidden aeon's return
Hear the cries from the dead

We're the sons of darkness
Bringing the dark
We re the sons of darkness
Join us

From the deep of the forest
In a hole of time
An idyllic place
Far beyond the sun

We praise a new deity
The horned one
Coming from the shadows
To the altar of the damned

Join us now

Cross the threshold of eternity
Become an entity of no end
And free forever

Forget all your past
Let the future flows
Living in no present
You are dead