Thrown To Belial - High Lord In The Diseased Halls Of The Dead | Текст песни

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• Thrown To Belial
• High Lord In The Diseased Halls Of The Dead

Let the night fall, forever on this cursed earth. x2.
Dark worship, a taste for blasphemy.
Surface manifestation veiling a century struggle.
It will presage the end of the world.
Shepherd of the damned, midnight guild.
Nothing more than an abomination, High Lord in the Diseased Halls of The Dead!

And it's face bares no reflection, a parasite lurking in the void.
From blood-soaked shadows born in blight, the streets will run crimson with gore.
A depraved peddler of living flesh, The High Lord in the Diseased Halls of The Dead!

As dark whispers harbour turmoil, for tonight we dine in hell.
Dark whispers harbour turmoil, for tonight we dine in hell.
In hell. x2.

All hell walks the night time streets.
Terrible black form sweeping out of darkness.
Devoured from within, tainted by the stench of death.
Blaspheming wretch, foul misery.
No home now but eternal torments of, High Lord in the Diseased Halls of The Dead.
High Lord in the Diseased Halls of The Dead.

Hell.

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