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• Artiste: Wolfsmond
• Titre: Greet The Beyondworld
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Up from the shadows of the cold pale future rising with his scyt he in his hands death comes reaping the brother of sleep it is the time that this life ends white fangs are flashing and his eyes are red - gleaming grave icy words creeping from his mouth no life withstands him all the flesh withers grasslike every time north, east, west, and south None shall escape him you may run but can´t hide you´re just running to your own grave blood must be shed souls be freed from their bodies mortal life fades and eternity´s safe mistenshrouded the cemetary lies nighthowls are calling their haunting tune don´t fear the reaper he´s coming to take you greet the beyondworld for death´s coming soon