From amidst the Abysses of Worlds
emerges the Beast
Wild and untamed into Nightmares
Devastating in Grief
the Darkness flows below us all
Into our woeful Minds
Grotesque Devils now stalk our Souls
Helpless we are
Canst thou not see his wasted hand
In writhing Trees
The Grasp leaden onto the Heart
Hideous in Strength
Über hohle Gräber
mit eisigem Schritt
Es kommt der Leib des Todes
der Seele gar gravenhast nah...
Gestalt des Endes
The Name lost a thousand Dreams ago
Faded into Dusk
Over hollow Graves firmly onward
His Presence ever looms
Unclear and occult his Appearance
Hidden in Shrouds
Sunken Eyes that gleam and flare through our Souls
Canst thou not see his wasted Face
In writhing Fogs
The Evil leaden onto the Soul
Hideous in Strength
Über hohle Gräber
mit eisigem Schritt
Es kommt der Leib des Todes
der Seele gar gravenhast nah...
Gestalt des Endes
And upwards we come to wrest all which was lost
Cerements of the graves softly pave all Ways
"For Sceptre and Crown must tumble down
And in the Dust be equal made with the Poor
Crooked Scythe and Spade"
Twilight falls, Autumn crawls
Deathless Sons, sleepless Ones
The cold Procession of all who came before
In our final clear and starry Night
The Cosmos itself mourns in his Presence
And the Devil's Breath whispers through the Trees
emerges the Beast
Wild and untamed into Nightmares
Devastating in Grief
the Darkness flows below us all
Into our woeful Minds
Grotesque Devils now stalk our Souls
Helpless we are
Canst thou not see his wasted hand
In writhing Trees
The Grasp leaden onto the Heart
Hideous in Strength
Über hohle Gräber
mit eisigem Schritt
Es kommt der Leib des Todes
der Seele gar gravenhast nah...
Gestalt des Endes
The Name lost a thousand Dreams ago
Faded into Dusk
Over hollow Graves firmly onward
His Presence ever looms
Unclear and occult his Appearance
Hidden in Shrouds
Sunken Eyes that gleam and flare through our Souls
Canst thou not see his wasted Face
In writhing Fogs
The Evil leaden onto the Soul
Hideous in Strength
Über hohle Gräber
mit eisigem Schritt
Es kommt der Leib des Todes
der Seele gar gravenhast nah...
Gestalt des Endes
And upwards we come to wrest all which was lost
Cerements of the graves softly pave all Ways
"For Sceptre and Crown must tumble down
And in the Dust be equal made with the Poor
Crooked Scythe and Spade"
Twilight falls, Autumn crawls
Deathless Sons, sleepless Ones
The cold Procession of all who came before
In our final clear and starry Night
The Cosmos itself mourns in his Presence
And the Devil's Breath whispers through the Trees