The blackness of the Night profound dyed with o colour of flower The flowers of love, desire and fulfillment... Why do they call my felling a sin! Why do they call my sin infernal love! Love... another empty word, the brat of human mind. Those cannot love whose bodies are torn by jealous looks of slaves. The streams of blasphemous blood head towards divine eternity; Pitiful howl of wolves in the silent Night... This is a name of love The blasphemous eternal beauty, My lonesome song, The essence of my life, The passionate truth sprinkled with cursed blood, my blood The blood of Fallen Angel.
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Copy to Clipboard: The blackness of the Night profound dyed with o colour of flower The flowers of love, desire and fulfillment... Why do they call my felling a sin! Why do they call my sin infernal love! Love... another empty word, the brat of human mind. Those cannot love whose bodies are torn by jealous looks of slaves. The streams of blasphemous blood head towards divine eternity; Pitiful howl of wolves in the silent Night... This is a name of love The blasphemous eternal beauty, My lonesome song, The essence of my life, The passionate truth sprinkled with cursed blood, my blood The blood of Fallen Angel.
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