Elysian Fields
Текст песни Rapture And The Mourning Virtue

And the flower... to poison grey
The beggars' winter, the almighty's reign

A drama in silver
Drawn in bitter dusks
Clouds drift across the end
One's own flesh and blood

Ravished, oh melancholy
The icon, a greedy touch
And the moon... to blood divine
The arms, they dream, I scorn...

Shall cynic be always
The dread of all the incensed
Horrent... as the intrepid falls
The last, for ever, throne

Seconds of the past
Solitary cries
Wandering
The crestfallen invoked
The envy carved in stone
Immense eversince

Rapture and the mourning virtue

And the flower... to poison grey
The beggars' winter, the almighty's reign