Ailing - Frailty My Bride | Текст песни

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• Ailing
• Frailty My Bride

Entranced, unheeding. I yearn for her hand. Her pale form so lifeless. The queen of the damned. Unyielding. Unholy. To the grave she brings me. So cold her touch. Enslaved. I must. Rotting her womb. Her bed my tomb. She is, my chosen. I gave her my soul. This bride, so putrid. The whore of sheol. Bring me to the grave. Torture me your slave. Let me raise your veil. And kiss the lips of hell. Hell. My bride. This bride is chosen. She leads men astray. Her cold stone affection. Means my end of days.

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