An Ancient Ancestor Of The Autumn Moon

Bleak, so bleak

Thousands, and yet your hunger isn't quenched

They will never grow old

And the years shall not condemn them

 

Like an ancient ancestor of the autumn moon

The freezing eye of God, of crimson doom

 

The sorrow, the horror, the cold

The God of war, the dead beating stone

The crimson tales and stories never told

Forgotten in the wind for so long

But echoes forever in the halls

The halls of oblivion

 

Cruel, how cruel is your face, draped in royal crimson

Up to the star strewn sky a column of smoke rises

 

Like an ancient ancestor of the autumn moon

The freezing eye of God, of crimson doom

 

A fire, so fierce and blinded by rage, but still bleak and cold

And bleak and cold is the world you've made

Nothing remains but the emptiness that echoes forever in the halls of oblivion

Under the autumn moon