Regions Of The Night - Theatre Of Ice



By crookend moon and waining starlight

In the blood-red thickening twilight

I find myself upon a path bathed in gloom

That has no end except the tomb

With eyes cast upward I'll give no thought of hell

But if there are gods are there not devils as well

Hiding somewhere in the flickering screens

That fill my mind like erotic dreams

Forget not the legends of old

The stories of hell that your elders have told

For they are without a doubt all quite real

There is a devil and your soul he will steal



I lay my brain before the flickering screen

And shudder as I watch the silent screams

In the distance hear the monsters call

They're searching now for living dolls

I search for a place amongst the thorns to pray

Perchance to contemplate the dying of the day

But there no solace for me to find

For I am nothing but ruins of a mind

Forget not the legends of old

The stories of hell that your elders have told

For they are without a doubt all quite real

There is a devil and your soul he will steal

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