Wings of the Moon

Down the stairs, dark dreams wait.

Fear thrives from a wasted moment,

children of hell crowd the burning black gate.

Doors close, sealing the damn within.

Breathing despair murders the gentle hands of the Goddesses.

Silence is the silver bell,

struck from a church of the Gods.

Bodies lay across the floor waiting for their master.

Night has fallen,

man has bedded down.

Evil plots for the throne of mankind,

war brings heroes and violence.

Come walk into the mist,

visit the graves of the living.

Demonic priests arise on this pentagramic moon,

flaming wings silhouette against the frosty surface.

Horror dwells deep in the hearts of our loved,

treading on the coals for a temporary refuge.

Run to the edge of madness,

embrace the sunrise of tomorrow.

Sweat chills the heat from the devil’s fingers,

souls suffer now as this world burns.

Ashes are tears from the deeds of man,

settling into the basement for eternity.

Down the stairs, dark dreams wait.