Слова:
Cryptic Wintermoon Of Shadows And Dark Things You Fear

above ? the incoming darkness And lonely we die No one who prays for us ? no one who cries We die ? to the place where our dead brothers lie And now

s the drums of war That's our art of war You can run ? but never hide Here death will always find you Kill efficiency ? industrialized Genocide ? mechanized

darkest nights ? where the source of your sorrow lies All your nightmares ? only worse ? have become bitter truth for your infected mind And nothing could save you from torture and

This morning has been born ? without light ? dim ? forlorn A severe vault of clouds rushed across the open downs Black gaunt and eerie tree ? skeletons

lovely named "earth" ? your incubator ? you grow and wilt Scrutinized and analyzed And when my work is done I simple pull the plug I am theory ? and

deaf Ubiquitous mindlock ? always looking for the thrill Feeding oil to the flames ? the quest has just begun Faster, harder, more and more ? implicit faith will make you