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L'art De Mourir
A black cloud covers the night, I hear not a sound
I see not a light, Bodies on bodies
(so cold with) their empty eyes
left unburied, waiting to be burned
Fire on the filthy death is the only light that I can see
No sign of life, just the smell of death
No sign of breath, the line of the dead
Death after death, impending demise
Fire after fire, unwelcome demise
Death after death, millions of bodies lie
Fire after fire, with hopeless cries
Invisible shadows everywhere
raping and reaping the souls of millions
Millions of demises and hopeless cries
(With) their sharpened scythes, another dies
The filth once alive, left and shunned
cold and silent, hunted and preyed
To the dark we'll all be sent
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Burn the funeral fire high
Burn it higher to the sky
Burn the funeral fire
Burn it up higher, as bright as the sun for which we yearn
Burn the funeral fire, burn!
Burn it higher till (their) return!
Burn the funeral fire, burn it up higher
but I know that I will wait for my turn
Why should I?
A Black cloud covers the night
I hear not a sound or see not a light
Bodies on bodies
(so cold with) their empty eyes
Left unburied, waiting to be burned
No more place to bury the sorrow
In our sight (only) the fear to follow
For us, the cursed, in this hell, there'll be no tomorrow
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