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Beware and be told! That I may unfold When thou least expect my grandeur of old! My prey is just that which is not awake, and even thine life, I'd care not to take! I hunt amongst thee, lest thou forget, thine is the skin in which I am clad!

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 25, 2025

Einsamer unterm Sternenzelt Geht durch die stille Mitternacht. Der Knab aus Träumen wirr erwacht, Sein Antlitz grau im Mond verfällt. Die Närrin weint mit offnem Haar Am Fenster, das vergittert starrt. Im Teich vorbei auf süßer Fahrt Ziehn Liebende sehr wunderbar. Der Mörder lächelt bleich im Wein, Die Kranken Todesgrausen packt. Die Nonne betet wund und nackt Vor des Heilands Kreuzespein. Die Mutter leis' im Schlafe singt. Sehr friedlich schaut zur Nacht das Kind Mit Augen, die ganz wahrhaft sind. Im Hurenhaus Gelächter klingt. Beim Talglicht drunt' im Kellerloch Der Tote malt mit weißer Hand Ein grinsend Schweigen an die Wand. Der Schläfer flüstert immer noch.

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 25, 2025

When night falls She cloaks the world In impenetrable darkness A chill rises from the soil And contaminates the air Suddenly... Life has new meaning When night falls She cloaks the world In impenetrable darkness A chill rises from the soil And contaminates the air Suddenly... Life has new meaning

Submitted by Finntroll — Nov 13, 2025

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No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.

No lyrics have been submitted for this track yet.

O thou, whose face hath felt the winter's wind Whose eyes has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist And the black elm tops 'mong the freezing stars To thee the spring will be a harvest time O thou, whose only book has been the light Of supreme darkness which thou feddest on O thou, whose only book has been the light Of supreme darkness which thou feddest on Night after night when phaebus was away To thee the spring shall be a triple morn O thou, whose face hath felt the winter's wind Whose eyes has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist And the black elm tops 'mong the freezing stars To thee the spring shall be a harvest time O thou, whose face hath felt the winter's wind Whose eyes has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist O thou, whose only book has been the light Of supreme darkness which thou feddest on Night after night when phaebus was away To thee the spring shall be a triple morn O fret not after knowledge - I have none And yet my song comes native with the warmth O fret not after knowledge - I have none And yet the evening listens He who saddens at thought of idleness cannot be idle And he's awake who thinks himself asleep O thou who bent in all the autumn-storms Like the trees at the moor amidst the woeful winds To thy wretched heart the spring shall be a triple morn - Alas! I still long for it! I long for it!

Submitted by Nargaroth — Feb 14, 2026

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