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Rituals of the Oak
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The Spell of Doom
Day turns to dusk
Skies veiled black and shadows fall
In a spiral of twisting fate I crawl
Descent begins
A sense of madness burns within
I am a slave unto sin
Inebriating tones are whispering my name
Under the spell you're never the same
From bleeding eyes
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A crimson trail of bitter tears
Past fires burn smoke never clears
I turn from faith
While shades of night hide my disgrace
Consumed by guilt falling from grace
In suffocating darkness I have been reborn
And for your sheltered souls I mourn
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