• Burning slowly in thoust grate
    Flickering, Feeding souls desire
    Winding round, Death my fate
    Angst consumes and devils fire.

    Misery, Deceit the monsters trate
    Our saddened state, with he sours higher
    Brooding within our worldly hate
    Because we live, he never tire.

    Burning slowly in thoust grate
    Diseased souls, his desire
    Smoking ruin is our fate
    But with us dies devils fire.