[...And Shineth Unto The Cold Cometh... 7"]

Between the sunset's bloodstained veil,
Thy horned prospect reflects on me.
The he-goat above - The she-goat below
Cried through beads of mirrored tears
It fills the air! - It fills the air!
An atmosphere that hath no key.
I'm disguised by the kindle of nite and I can fill your liquid, glass heart
Grasp your cold-shaded breath and whisper the sign of the hidded stone
I'm in the circle and I am the shell that granted you the horns of All-Begetter
A fixed, startless vision and a sullen fabrication cursed the Sun of which our lustful ways are performed.
Half of me is all of her
Hath no shower; hath no sol
Half of me is all of her
Hath no shower; hath no sol
Half of me is all of her
Hath no shower; hath no sol
Akhera-goiti
Akhera-beiti
Fantasies I realized
Dance of thorns, I thrive
For below the great abyss is a virtue contained in itself.
"We shall eagerly expect one black opalith for tomorrow."