The Dead (Rigor Sardonicous)

On this holy day as the dead doth now rise The earth does now weep to the waning skylight A chasm of the hollow A fortune stained of blood A light upon the blackest shadow A frigid touch of dust Upon this placid dome in the whispering breath of night A silent life does fade in it's lonely cries of fright A naked mound of frozen hope A stilled desecration of lies A fallen death upon the Unknown A feeble gaze from unnamed life Blood taints the morning horizon, a golden silhouette of unlife The lost allure of heaven has died in the rot of the Crypt Blood taints the morning horizon, a golden silhouette of unlife The lost allure of heaven has died in the rot of the Crypt