Kiss me coldly and drain this life from my lips Let the cold blood flow on it's own... Kiss me coldly and fall away from the soul Long forgotten...
From which of this oak shall I hang myself? These ebon halls are always dark... From which frostbitten bough shall I die?
As dark as the winter, as black as her ghastly veil As cold as her whisper and chilling gown
No corridors of life and beauty These enchanted halls are stained with the blood of night Ebon halls gleam as ghosts of a fire dance wickedly across a pantheon of marble
These weary eyes shall open no more, frozen tightly by the cold embrace of death A charnel house of memories torn and burning melancholy shall embrace me now
Hear this call... Beyond endless halls and far across the vast forest, just across the iron gates Whispers...
As dark as the winter, as black as her grim mask of death As cold as her sorrow, her ivory tears
No corridors of life and beauty No bloodred sky, no colors left in this world