Spells and hearse

Far above the ether land
Promised by ancients
Bestowed by them
that walks both worlds
the wild the tame…
from valleys abound
with swirling flames
Here I be spell-caster
Within each drop a voice
Amid each spin, a tale

Fling I in this roots
With chants of old
Tapped by embers
Of lost souls’ screams
Given by spirit
From realms of grey
Where mists surround gloomy
landscapes, made of nothing
but scream of despair, madness
Here cast I the spells of hate

Hate thee man of all descent
Hate ye children of all generations
Hate ye womb that gave thee shelter
Hate ye man that gave thee life
Hate the sunrays in the morn
Hate yet lights from silver moon
Such be thy revulsion
Such be thy hatred
Thus bear thou this world no more
Till thee slay thy very soul

Tonight under the scythe moon
Meet thee there in lover’s swoon
With my lips I caress thy mouth
Leaves moisture upon thy tongue
Before morn’s dawn thou shall lay
Upon the bed, so still and pale
My chants and appeasement
to the angels of death
be there come and take thee home
For I share not my love with none.