Sucharda's Home / Sucharduw Dum (w Nowe Pace) lyrics

Grief......It's our splendor.An archaic tragedy ofOur erotic dark desires,I'm insane, totally insaneNobody in the funeral,Nobody cries to the solitary coffinThis lies under the candle's flame,The flame dance as a sinuous and seductive body ofA viper womanThere are not flowers in the sad grave,There's a sweet and empty forgetfulness sensation,The blood is the essence of the life,An endless anxiety, without course,But there are still statues in marble of forlorn angelsThey console the fertility of your bosoms,They'll give as gift a black rose for youBut also there is not black flower,Just a thorn of a cursed rosePricked in your angelical fingerAnd beautiful, the blood will drainAnd my tortuous and serpentine tongue will dry this red tear,When my chains involve you,When your long and gold hair interlaceWith strange force in my hands,My journey will be long, but my time infiniteThe angels aren't immortal.