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¿Qué escuchas en este momento?



We ride like a patrol of angels within a gloomy black sky.
As the course of our path changes, there is the fire where the butterflies die.
Dirty runes glorify gray stones, relics from the ancient times.
Earthly worms reaping my bones, raping flesh - hiding these crimes.

Can I hear the singing of my lover, or have I lost my sight?
From this sleep am I able to recover, or is it mine, the never-ending night?




:maestro: DOOM bien hecho ctm!
 
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